Behind me, I heard her exhale. A sharp, frustrated sound.
"Liar."
She steppedout at 10:51, and I was waiting in the shadows like a goddamn addict jonesing for a fix.
I watched as she tilted her head the way she did when she was taking in the sounds and smells around her. She was trying to figure out if I was there.
"You're driving me insane," I said softly, the words more for myself than for her.
She reached for me and I found myself stepping into her touch until her palm was pressed flat against my chest. Over my heart.
"Come home with me, Milo," she said.
Every muscle in my body locked down tight.
"Raven. We can't."
"I'm not asking you to stay." Her thumb stroked back and forth over my sternum. "I'm asking you to stop stalking me and come inside. Have a drink. Talk to me like a normal person instead of lurking in alleys and leaving anonymous gifts."
"I'm not a normal person."
The corners of her pretty mouth turned up. "Neither am I, I guess. Not anymore." Her hand slid up, fingers curling around the back of my neck. "But we can pretend, can't we? Please, Milo."
Please.
"One drink," I said. "Then I leave."
Her smile turned triumphant.
Her apartment wassmall and dark. She didn't turn on any lights when we walked in and I didn't ask her to. The shadows felt appropriate.
I stood in her living room while she moved through the space with the ease of long familiarity.
"Whiskey or vodka?" she called from the kitchen.
"Whiskey."
She returned with two glasses. Handed me one without fumbling. Our fingers brushed, and heat shot up my arm.
"To bad decisions," she said, raising her glass.
I clinked my glass against hers, and we drank.
She sat on the couch, carefully setting her glass on the end table beside her. I stayed standing. Keeping my distance. Maintaining control.
"Sit down, Milo." She patted the cushion beside her. "I don't bite."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
"Then whatareyou worried about?"
I looked at her. Really looked. The dark hair spilling over her shoulders. The pale skin. The swell of her breasts above that green neckline. The way she sat with her legs crossed, completely at ease, completely unafraid.
And I decided that a little honesty was the least that I could give her. "I'm worried about what I'll do if I get too close to you."
Carefully, she asked, "And what's that?"
Unable to resist the call of her, I moved closer, setting my glass down near hers. But I still couldn't bring myself to sit. Instead, I stood over her, close enough that my legs brushed her knees.
