My growl comes out more breathy than I’d like. “God, you’re so smug underneath those turtlenecks.”
He chuckles. “You seem quite preoccupied with my clothing choices.”
I don’t dare say it’s because I’m desperate to see him out of them. “Yeah, well. You know you look good in whatever you wear.”
Trevor glances at me curiously. “Most people find me intimidating, Red.”
“What? Why?”
Trevor’s laugh this time is louder, a bright smile on his face. He shakes his head a little. “I much prefer the way you see me.”
It hurts my heart to think that people find Trevor intimidating. If they spent even two minutes in his presence, they’d realize how much of a teddy bear he is. A ratherstackedteddy bear, sure. But Trevor isn’t the kind of person who’d use his size against others, let alone his claws.
“Well, I think you’re kind,” I tell him honestly. “And the way you fill out a sweater makes me jealous of the sweater.”
“Because you’d rather me be filling you instead?”
I groan helplessly. “You’re not supposed to say it aloud, for Christ’s sake. We’re in a goddamn library.”
Trevor’s shoulders shake. “You’re a bit of a minx, aren’t you?”
“And you’re a blatant flirt. So…what does that make us?”
“A match, probably.”
Probably. Although I’m scared to voice it aloud.
“Would you have dinner with me tomorrow?” Trevor asks.
It takes me a second to catch up. “Oh, uh…”
“My place,” he says, answering the unspoken question. “But not like that.” He smirks a little. “My uncle will be there.”
Again, it takes my brain a second. “You live with your uncle?”
“I do. How would you feel about a home-cooked meal?”
Honestly? “That sounds fucking awesome,” I breathe.
Trevor looks pleased. “Should I pick you up?”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all.” His phone chimes, and he presses a button to shut off the alarm. “Text me your address?”
I nod, and Trevor does something he’s never had the chance to do before. He leans in and gives me the tiniest, chastest kiss goodbye. Right in our corner of the library.
Then he’s packing up his things and heading off, and I’m stuck staring after him like some lovestruck idiot. Orlust-struck. Definitely not love. Yet.
Thatyethas me jumping up from my own seat, my heart racing. It’s far,fartoo soon to be thinking like that.
I’m in line at the library café for a much-needed second latte—sue me—when my phone rings. I keep my displeasure locked up tight when I see my dad’s name. Resigned, I step out of line and make my way toward the doors to take the call. He’s been trying to get a hold of me for a couple days now.
I wait until I’m beside the building to bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“I was wondering if I’d have to drive down there just to talk to you,” my dad says in greeting.
“I’ve been busy.”
