juniepwillikers:
Stranger? Bold, considering you flirted with me in front of the entire romance section.
But yes. I still take recommendations. Especially from washed-up space cowboys.
I stared at the screen.
My hands were sweating.
Like I was ateenager. Like I was sixteen again, trying to flirt at a cast party with someone way too pretty and way too smart to give me the time of day. I typed:
anselbarlowe:
At least you could tell I was flirting with you this time.
Can I earn back your trust over coffee? Or are you only accepting apologies in annotated paperbacks?
She was typing back before I could chicken out.
juniepwillikers:
Tempting. But I’m working tomorrow morning.
What about after? My lunch break?
My heart did that thing again — that stupid, traitorous stutter.
Okay. Okay.
anselbarlowe:
Name a time. I’ll be there.
With coffee.
And yearning. Obviously.
She sent back a one-word reply:
juniepwillikers
One-thirty.
And then, after a beat:
Don’t be late, space cowboy.
I could work with that.
CHAPTER 9
The room was quiet except for the ticking clock.
I curled myself onto the far end of the couch, like I could fold myself away from this conversation. Like I could pretend that I wasn’t here because I had a fuckingcrush.
“He touched my wrist,” I said, already feeling ridiculous for saying it.
But Dr. Tilly said nothing — not yet. She didn’t need to.
