My heart sinks even lower as I stay quiet for a moment, my brain short-circuiting. Is he for real?
I look out my window—the night is really warm, the moonlight the only thing lighting up my room. My stomach fills with butterflies, not just happy ones, but also annoyingly panicking ones.
“Why would I give my address to a jewelry thief?” I tease.
“I’m a thief now? That’s rude,” he laughs again and I don’t think that sound will leave my head for a long time.
“What do I know? All I know is your name,” I say, my tone getting cocky.
“Will I get the address if I tell you more about myself?”
“Maybe,” I mumble, barely audible, my fingers nervously playing with the string on my sleep shorts and it’s already getting ragged.
“Okay,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t like prosecco.”
“You had three today.”
He laughs.
“So you were counting my alcohol? Who’s weird now?”
“You were the one staring at me.”
There. I said it.
“I wasn’t.”
I can hear in his voice that he’s smiling.
“And you’re also a liar,” I conclude.
“That’s right. You already know so much about me. Now the address please,” he adds with an annoying amount of confidence.
I laugh, then panic.
“It’s twenty-two fuck off,” I say soundly, with enough emphasis on the last words to show what a badass I am.
The line goes dead.
The bastard hung up.
Then my phone beeps again. He’s sending me a picture of the bracelet as he holds it above a trashcan. I silently laugh and then zoom in on his hand. A wave of heat runs through my spine when I see the scars.
Why am I being so intrigued by something so damaged? It’s quite hard to look away from.
Fine.
I text him my address and throw away the phone instantly, starting to pace around my room like a freak.
What the hell did I just do? It’s after midnight.
I can’t stop smiling though, resting my hands on my hips and walking around my room to get the nervousness out of my system, when my phone rings again.
He’s calling back, so I pick it up quickly.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” he says in a commanding tone, with beeps and motor sounds in the background.
He’s already on his way. Shit.
