“Whatever,” I mumble. The pair of us are acting like pre-pubescent teenagers who have a crush on each other, and I feel like I’m in high school all over again.
Aimee pushes away from the counter and walks to the door. “Right, I’m leaving. All the sexual tension in here is becoming too much for me.”
I desperately want to follow after Aimee, to leave this kitchen and Theo behind. To not be left alone with him. But I’ll be damned if I go first. He’ll see it as if he’s won this battle, and over my dead body will I allow that to happen.
Being around him doesn’t bring me the excitement it used to. My body used to light up the minute he stepped into the room, and my heart would feel like it was going to burst out of my chest. But he broke that heart the day he left without a word, so he doesn’t get to act like this.
I take a sip of my coffee and immediately spit it back out. “Ew, what the fuck?” I glare at him, but he stands there wearing his usual cocky smirk.
“Something wrong, firefly?”
“Was that salt instead of sugar?” I growl, walking to the sink and pouring the offending fluid away.
“Would I do something like that?” he asks innocently.
I’m not a violent person, but the urge to slap the smug look off his face is extremely high.
“Yes, you would because you’re an insane asshole,” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air.
“I prefer the term ‘creative,’” he says with a shrug, his entire attitude blasé and disinterested.
“Creative in the head,” I retort, a hand on my hip. “You’re the most irritating person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
His eyebrow raises with his mug halfway to his mouth. “I could say the same about you.” He drains the last of his drink and places it in the sink before turning back to me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have real work to be getting on with.”
I stomp my foot like a toddler as he walks out, growling in frustration. This is not my finest hour, but fuck me, he’s pushing my buttons. I need a minute to decompress and figure out how the fuck I’m going to spend the next however long working with him without killing him slowly.
I spend the rest of the day reviewing news articles and reports about Harper. The only information I had to go on was what Frank told us in his office.
A door opening pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see Aimee. “You know it's home time, right?” she asks, gesturing to the open books in front of me.
“I know,” I say as I rake a hand through my hair. It fell out of its ponytail earlier, and I couldn’t be bothered to put it back up. “I’m missing something here. I can see it, but at the same time, I can’t.”
Aimee gives me a look of understanding. “Keep going, you’ll get there, but maybe go home and sleep first? Might help you to see the bigger picture with fresh eyes,” she says kindly.
“Yeah, probably.”
I tidy up, putting the books away and closing down my laptop while Aimee waits for me.
“Wanna grab a drink? Danny’s bar is just down the road. Does two-for-one cocktails on a Monday.” She winks.
I smile. “Thanks, but I need to get back.”
Leaving the building behind, I take the subway home. The night sky stares at me as the lights from buildings and cars whizz past. Pulling my coat tighter around my ears, I walk the few remaining blocks home.
I was lucky to find an apartment nearby. It’s not perfect, but it fits my needs. The two-bedroom unit is filled with items I found from the local charity store.
The plant I so desperately wanted to have but knew I wouldn’t keep alive wilts on the windowsill as I open the door quietly. Mrs. Mitchell sits knitting on the threadbare sofa, the green cushions stuffed around her.
“Sorry I’m so late,” I apologize, wincing. “I lost track of time.”
Mrs. Mitchell gives me a warm smile. “It’s not a problem, dear. Everything has been absolutely fine.”
She places her knitting into her bag and stands up. For a sixty-year-old woman, she’s looking amazing. Most of her hair remains a dark brown color, and her slim figure is encased in jeans and a sweater.
Walking her out to the door, I apologize again. “I really am sorry.”
“Blake, please stop apologizing. You’re doing the best you can. I’m retired and have nothing better to do with my time, so I’m happy tohelp in any way that I can.” She gives my arm a gentle squeeze before heading to her own apartment beside mine.
