Reece: Oh yeah? Why the gym?
Reece: Wait, are you still on East Coast time? It’s like two a.m. for you.
Grayson: I struck out everywhere I went tonight. Needed to think.
Another frown creased Reece’s face. So Grayson had been at a club trying to pick someone up? Who?
Reece took a breath through his nose. None of his damn business, that’s who. He wrote out an appropriately platonic text, the kind a normal frenemy might send. If there was such a thing.
Reece: How the hell did YOU strike out? I’ve seen the way people pant in your direction.
Grayson: Not people. LEADS. I don’t know why you keep thinking the Dead Man dates.
Oh. Well, then. Reece tried to wipe the smile off his face as he texted back.
Reece: So you’re on a case? An empath case?
Grayson: What else would I be on?
You could be on me—no no no, delete delete DELETE.
Texting Grayson late at night was a bad decision. Reece was an empath; he knew better, knew this was when his own inhibitions went down. He needed to plant himself firmly on Team A, the normies who were smart enough to be afraid of Grayson, and stay the hell off Team B, the fruit loops who’d addGraysonplussexand come up withyes, please.
Reece: So you went to the gym to think? Why, do you think better when you’re lifting those things that weigh more than me?
Grayson: They’d have to weigh a lot more than you.
Reece paused, looking at the texts that echoed the conversation they’d had in November. At the time, he’d thought Grayson was exaggerating. But Grayson was like Jamey—which meant he might actually bedownplayinghis strength.
Might literally be able to toss Reece around without breaking a sweat.
Reece: If you’re really that strong it would make that second-date hate-sex interesting.
Reece stared at the text he’d just sent Grayson. Shit, he hadn’t thought that through either. Well...fine. This was fine. No big deal. Platonic frenemies joked about hate-fucking each other.
Probably.
Grayson: First of all, why do you keep saying IF? Second, the moment I touch you, it’s gonna knock you out again, and isn’t that the part that would make hate-sex interesting?
Grayson: And finally, we aren’t at a second date. When was the first? The dinner you ran off halfway through to commit a felony?
Reece let out his breath in a huffed half laugh. There. See? Grayson wasn’t making it weird. Just your casual everyday hypothetical hate-fuck between not-friends.
Reece: Maybe I was playing hard to get.
Grayson: Guess a lot of empaths play hard to get with me then.
Reece snorted.
Reece: I got used to your voice and it doesn’t bother me anymore. You never did tell me if the same thing would happen if we touched enough times.
Reece: Hypothetically.
Reece: Obviously.
Grayson: Nice try, sugar. But that is one of the Dead Man’s anti-empathy defenses and you don’t get the answer to that question.
Reece’s lips turned up, a tiny bit sly.
