“Did you argue with your grandparents as much as you argue with me?”
“Hell no. I’d go into my room and talk into my pillow so they couldn’t hear me. My grandma was old, but her stink eye was just as good as yours, and she was scarier than you.” I peeked at him again for a split second. “And you’re the one who likes bickering. I just like giving you a hard time because I think you enjoy it.”
Got him.
“Open the damn glove compartment, Gracie.”
Leaning forward, I opened it almost timidly. Inside, there was a slip of paper that was his insurance card—the name on it said ALEXANDER SHOTA AKITA—and a small, brown, rectangular box.
Why I wanted to ask if that was his real name explained everything that was wrong with my life.
I mouthed it out and shot another quick look at his profile.
I could see it. It was classy, just like him. Most of the time.
Putting the card back, I took the box out, slid another glance toward Alex who was still focused on driving down the longest brick driveway in the world, and I took the top off.
There was a multi-tool inside. A Swiss Army knife on steroids.
“For me?”
He slid me a quick glance. “No, it’s for the other demon that insists on sleeping in my bed.”
Now he was calling me a demon, and I was about it. “That was you who went into the room when I was asleep and got intomybed.”
“You’re still sick, aren’t you?” he asked.
I swear…. “How long can you hold your breath for?”
His eyes flicked toward me. He’d put his blue contacts in again. Was that a tiny, itty-bitty smile on his mouth? “A long time.”
Oh boy. I plucked the tool out of the box, noticing how light it was. What the hell was it made out of?
“It’s safer than you carrying around that knife in your underwear. Take it out before you stab yourself. I don’t want to hear you crying again.”
I snorted as I tossed it up and down, wrapping my fingers around it, squeezing it tight. A little beam of light shot out from the tip. It even had a flashlight!
I swallowed, tossing it up one more time.
I was not going to cry.
I was not going to cry.
I was not—
“Don’t even think about it.”
I pressed my lips together, and it took me two tries to finally say, “That’s what I’m trying to do, and you’re not helping.” I clutched the multi-tool tighter and tried again, ignoring the fact that my voice still sounded all breathy and weird. “Thank you, Alex. This is wonderful. I love it.”
“I know it is.”
I was starting to think if he stopped being a smart-ass, I might miss it a little. “I’ve been worried about the knife in my underwear since I sat down,” I admitted. “Thank you.”
His entire upper body turned toward me. “I was joking. You really put it in your underwear?”
“I’m not Lara Croft. I don’t have a thigh holster for it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw he faced forward again, and I let myself glance over at him for longer than a second. I had a perfect view of the smooth edge of his jaw. His hair was styled nicely to the side with some hair products. He’d put some effort into tonight, that was for sure.
