I snort aloud and roll my eyes, knowing just how unlikely that is, and his mouth curves deeper until his dimple shows. There’s something wolfish in that crooked smile, giving me the urge to swallow.
“Lou?” Claire’s gentle voice pulls my attention back to her, and she peeks around me, trying to get a better look at my apparently empty room. “Sorry, did I interrupt? Do you already have company?”
“Oh—no, sorry. Of course you can hang out here.” I step aside to let her enter, then lock the door behind her.Just a crazy person laughing at an empty room, that’s me.
I turn back to face her, trying my best to avoid looking over at the 6’4” man lounging on my loveseat. Not easy to do when, out of the corner of my eye, I can still see him observing me, sitting back comfortably like he’s at a drive-in and I’m his entertainment for the evening.
“Mmm, it’s nice and cozy in here,” Claire murmurs, already unbuttoning her coat.
“Yeah, just turned off the fireplace,” I lie, before narrowing my eyes accusingly at him.Won’t even realize I’m here,my ass. Not that he can do anything about that, I suppose.
He just smirks, stretching his legs out further.
Claire drapes her coat over the rocking chair, then closes her eyes and heaves a deep breath. A second later, she opens them again and curves her pink-glossed lips upward, but it’s forced. “Thanks. I should’ve called first, I know—”
“Hey, you can always drop by. Okay?”
Her entire posture relaxes, and she gives me the first genuine smile since she showed up. “Thank you.”
I step toward her, my brows furrowing. “You all right?”
“Of course I am.” Her eyes dart to the ground before coming back up. “Just, Dylan’s been so busy. He just took on an extra job, and . . . anyway, he’s a hard worker and I totally support him, I do.” She pauses, chewing on the inside of her cheek and shuffling her feet. “But this is the third time he’s cancelled on me this week and, well, obviously I’m the kind of girl that does better around company, huh? Hello, I’m Little Miss Chatterbox over here.”
She chuckles weakly at that, and I hate it. I hate how that jerk’s actions are making her talk about herself as though some of the best parts of who she is might actually be faults. I want to tell her that, too. That she deserves better, and Dylan doesn’t deserve to feel the warmth of her constant sunshine. He’s a leech, and leeches suck you dry until there’s nothing left to give. But something about the way her kind eyes are wide and vulnerable, it makes me think maybe the quieter side of friendship will be better for her soul right now.
“Loners like me need people like you in the world, Claire. Otherwise we’d spend all day talking to our invisible friends, never leaving our room.”
She laughs, a full-hearted belly laugh that makes me smile.
I glance over at my own personal invisible friend and quirk my head at the soft expression that’s taken over his face. His eyes are still observant, but they’re also warm, gentle, and his lips tilt up when our eyes connect. A flock of butterflies take flight in my stomach at such a sweet look, and I give him a little smile back before returning my attention to Claire. “So what’s it going to be? Dance party or sing off?”
Her mouth opens, and she shakes her head. “Uh-uh, no way. I’m actually a terrible dancer, and I only sing in the shower.”
“Hey, you’re the one who knocked on my door, and it just so happens I’m in a dancing mood now that I finally got my music back. You’re welcome to sit and watch but . . . that might get a little awkward.”
She lets out another laugh. “Okay, fine. Can I borrow some of your clothes, though? These jeans are way too tight to dance in.”
“Yup, right over here.” I take her to my dresser and let her pick out a pair of shorts and a top, then lead her into the bathroom.
When I turn back around, Death is standing. One hand rests in his pocket, the other rubs the side of his sharp jaw. “It was good seeing you, Lou.”
My heart flutters at the simple words. For a second, it sounds like he’s a normal guy, just hanging out with a girl. For a second, it feels like whatever this is between us could be real. For a second, I even believe it. I have to close my eyes briefly to shake the thought away. When I open them again, he’s taking a careful step toward me.
“Can I see you again? Would you . . .” His gaze flicks down, then slowly rises back up. “Would that be okay with you?”
My chest. It’s about to burst. I nod for a moment as I try to find my voice, tension thickening the air around us. When I finally respond, my sarcasm coping mechanism kicks in before I can stop it, “Anytime, Grim.”
“Grim?”
I glance up at him and bat my lashes innocently. “Yeah. You know, as in the Grim Reaper.”
A look of confusion crosses over his handsome face. “Who?”
“Seriously?” I feel my shoulders relax, almost forgetting the tension as my mouth falls open. “Death himself doesn’t know who the Grim Reaper is?”
His eyes narrow, brows pucker. “Should I?”
I chuckle softly. “I guess not. It feels weird calling you Death, though, so I thought I’d try it out. You don’t like it?”
