Oh shit.
“I didn’t mean— I just thought— I wasn’t trying to?—”
Her lips curve upward. “Relax Haynes. I think I could be open to a next time.”
My chest expands with a rush that feels like breakingthrough the defensive line. “Yeah? Okay.” I nod—undoubtedly way more than I should. “Okay. Good.”
The streetlight flickers above us while I debate asking for her number, but before I can summon the courage, Sutton pulls her phone from her back pocket.
“I should probably get your number,” she says, surprising me.
“Right. Absolutely.” Relief floods through me as the words come out quickly. I recite my number as she types it in, then she sends me a quick text. My phone immediately buzzes in my hand with her phone number.
“Now you have mine too,” she says, slipping her phone back into her pocket.
“Good,” I can’t control the grin spreading across my face for the life of me. “Thanks.”
Oh my God, I have her number!
Fuck me. How old am I?
Fifteen?
Then she takes a deep breath and steps closer to me. My pulse quickens as she rises slightly on her toes and places the gentlest kiss on my cheek.
“Goodnight, Shepherd Haynes,” she whispers, her breath warm against my skin.
Then she’s gone, disappearing through the building’s entrance with one last glance and wave over her shoulder.
“Goodnight, Sutton Price.”
8
SUTTON
The email subject line on my phone screen reads
IMPORTANT: Rent Adjustment Notice.
Like that’s ever a good thing.
I stare at it for a full ten seconds before opening it, like maybe if I wait long enough it will disappear on its own. It doesn’t because of course it doesn’t, so I begrudgingly tap the screen and open the email. The words blur together at first—legal language, polite phrasing, carefully neutral tone—but the number at the bottom hits like a punch.
Additional three hundred dollars.
Starting next month.
Maintenance costs for the building.
I blink and read it again. And then again, like maybe math works differently if you read something multiple times.
Spoiler alert…it doesn’t.
“Cool,” I mutter to my empty kitchen. “Cool, cool, cool.”
I set my phone down carefully, which is the universal sign that I am not panicking.
It’s fine.
