My mouth opens and closes several times. That…cutedidn’t exactly sound condescending. “Yeah, well, you never know what people are hiding.”
Trevor’s expression shifts from playful to searching. I didn’t mean anything deep by those words, but his prying eyes have me looking away fast. Trevor’s voice is even when he says, “I promise none of my secrets are dark.”
It’s my turn to shrug. “As long as you don’t treat me like a doe, it’s none of my business.”
There’s a slight pause. “Don’t people hunt the bucks?”
“I don’t know! Does it matter? A deer’s a deer.”
Trevor’s voice is warmer than the conversation warrants. “Sure, Red. I won’t hunt you down and mount you.” After an inordinately long second in which my entire body flashes hot, he adds, “On my wall.”
I nearly jump out of my skin when an alarm goes off on Trevor’s phone. I try to squash my disappointment, more than positive I’m misreading the emotion.
Has it really been an hour?
“Time to go?” I ask, hoping my voice comes out level.
Trevor hums his yes. “Table’s all yours.”
I nod in a jerk, trying to get my mouth to form the wordgood. No sound comes out.
Trevor finishes packing up his bag before turning toward me. Not fully, and not in a way that feels like he’s invading my space. Simply as if he’s making sure I know I’m his focus.
As if I could miss it.
“Are you going to give me your name this time? Or should I keep calling you Red?”
My heartbeat is a loud staccato as I roll that over. There’s no reason whatsoever for me not to tell him my name. It doesn’t make us friends. It doesn’t meananything.
But I still can’t get my mouth to open.
“All right,” Trevor rumbles. “I’ll see you Friday,better-than-averageRed.”
“I regret every word I’ve ever spoken to you,” I inform him.
His chuckle tells me he doesn’t believe that.
“You don’thaveto come back,” I add. “And maybe I won’t even be here on Friday. Maybe… You’re gone already. Do you always do that? Walk away when people are talking to you?Argh.” I affect my bestTrevor voiceto retort, “See you later, huge T. Nope. No. I hate that.”
Dropping my head to my textbook, I curse a good dozen times.
I don’t want to like him.
Idon’tlike him.
So then why the fuck do I wish it were Friday already?
It’s nearly seven o’clock when I trudge through the back door of the house I currently call home. Someone is blasting truly offensive music, and the smell of…I don’t even know is coming from a lightly smoking pan on the stove.
“Uh, guys?” I call out. “Is someone cooking?”
A thundering comes from the direction of the stairs before Todd trips into view. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, tugging up the waistband of his sweatpants as he hurries to the stove. I sigh at the cut-off shred of fabric he calls a shirt.
Todd is cursed with being one of the most stupidly beautiful people I’ve ever met. Of course, as my best friend, that means absolutely nothing.
Did I have a lustful crush on him for all of a second before I realized the two of us could never be? Sure. The man has dimples above his ass.
But the truth is I’d much rather have Todd as a lifelong friend than an ill-fated, passing rendezvous. Not that he’s even interested in such. Not with anyone.
