Why don’t I hit you over the head with it, and you can tell me if it’s warm?
I make up some answer, hoping to get her away from me, but she goes on and on.
I don’t even know what I’m saying as I rattle off one answer after another. She ends upnottaking one of the hors d’oeuvres —which is absolutely insufferable—and when I look up to find Felix again, he’s gone.
With downcast eyes, my body deflates. I feel someone tapping me on my shoulder, and I almost scream.
I swear to God if I get grilled about fish eggs again…
When I turn around, Felix stands before me.
“Are you a hallucination?” he asks.
My mouth falls open.He’s here. He’s speaking to me.
Then I register what he asked and almost fall over.
“Am I a what?”
Felix narrows his eyes and points at me. “If you’re a hallucination, I’m going to punch you. Are you?”
I finally shake the shock out of my system and answer, “What? No!Why would you be hallucinating?”
My mind goes back to that picture of him in the paper—between the way his eyes looked and the fact that he thinks he’s hallucinating…
He looks at me with suspicion and adds, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Alright. Be cool, Torren. You prepped for this. You’re here to make sure he’s okay. That’s it.
“I wanted to check on you.”
The words sit wrong in my mouth.
Too honest.
Too exposed.
“Check on me? Why?”
Suddenly, my throat feels like the Sahara Desert, and I tug on my tie to try to breathe again. “Be-because…” My brain freezes. What do I even say to that? I’m at a loss for words until I finally blurt out, “Because I was worried about you.”
Felix’s face looks like an animation of every emotion a human can display. From shock, to disbelief, to contemplation, then softness. His knitted brows smooth and his features relax, revealing his gorgeous features. He tries to say something, but stops himself, then visibly works up the courage to speak again. “Were you at the game yesterday?”
I pause, knowing that the answer to this question will most likely lead him to think I’ve been stalking him, which is…accurate, but it’s not what he thinks. “Yeah, I was at the game.”
Felix stares at me in shock. His mouth falls open, and he scans my face, clearly trying to make sense of my nonsensical brain.
Then, he gasps and asks, “Did you do something to Derek Obringer?”
My head tilts.Who?Then it dawns on me that he must be talking about the asshole. “The dude who was tossingchips at you?”
His eyes widen, and Goddamn if they don’t sparkle like emeralds beneath the chandelier light. He nods, and I reply. “Sure did.”
Felix’s chest rises and falls in rapid succession. I can’t tell if he’s upset or happy because he’s smiling, but he looks overwhelmed. “Why?” he asks.
“Because he was bothering you. He was throwing chips at you. What kind of person does that to someone? How old does he think he is? 12?”
Felix chuckles and replies, “Intellectually? Yeah, I’d say 12. He was one of my bullies in high school.”
