He’s watching me, expression open and a little hopeful. There’s something in his eyes I can’t quite name. My chest tightens with guilt for not remembering.
He must feel it, too, because he clears his throat and shifts tone. “We should go grab takeout. Drink this while watchingThe Fifth Elementfor the hundredth time.”
I fucking love that movie.
My stomach growls in agreement, reminding me I still haven’t gone back for my bag forgotten at Fangerella’s. Maybe going with Casey isn’t the worst idea.
And they really do make the best garlic-free pizza I’ve ever had.
I snort to myself.They. Who am I kidding?
There’s only one pizza guy I’m interested in seeing again, despite myself.
“Yeah, okay. Sounds way better than stale cereal,” I say, setting my book aside. “Actually, I know a place close by. Might be where I left my messenger bag yesterday. So, two birds, one slice. Or whatever.”
I check the time on my phone. Six twenty-three. They should be open. Hopefully.
Casey stands and stretches, arms lifted over his head in a lazy arc that pulls his shirt up just enough to flash a glimpse of bare skin and toned abs. It’s casual—probably unintentional—but I catch it anyway.
Because of course I do.
Even when I try not to look, I end up peeking.
“Good. Show me this place. I can hear your stomach from here.” He smirks while grabbing his wallet and sliding on his shoes. Baseball cap flipped backward, curls spilling out—yeah, he’s casually hot, and it’s kind of rude. A fact I am noticing way too often as of late.
“It’s notthatloud,” I mutter, shoving my feet into my flats. His grin only stretches wider.
I glance around for my bag and almost facepalm.Duh. Pizza shop.
“Supper’s on me today,” he says, like he’s read my thoughts.
He does that more than I’d admit. Probably from living together so long.
It’s kind of sweet.
“Fine. But if you’re buying, I’m getting cheesy bread.”
Casey smirks, adjusting his glasses. “See? This is why we’re friends.”
“Because I like carbs?”
“Because you understand that pizza without cheesy bread is just a sad life choice.”
We walk down the stairs and into the soft evening air. The sun’s low, shadows stretching between buildings as the day’s heat fades.
Casey buries his hands in his pockets as he waits for me to lead. “So, where is this place?”
“This way.”
We fall into step beside each other. Close enough to share body heat, not quite brushing.
A breeze slips down the back of my neck, pulling strands loose from my messy bun. I shiver. That feeling of being watched is back again. It’s like eyes crawling over my skin.
But then Casey speaks, reminding me I’m not alone, and the feeling disappears like it was never there.
“Do you remember how we met? Two years ago?”
I glance over. He’s looking at the sidewalk, lips curved in a fond smile.
