And, as if on cue, a familiar figure popped into view between aisles.
Not Helena, but Peter the Cheater.
“Listen, Hunter,” he said, eyeing his own phone before glancing up, “I’m heading out for today but, tomorrow, do you think you could—”
He stopped dead when he saw me, his face draining of color while, same as yesterday, I stared him down. Eyes going wide, the kid, Hunter, peered between us.
At least until Peter backtracked, turned tail, and ran.
“Bruh,” said Hunter, his focus returning to me while he aimed a thumb over his shoulder. “Wha’d you do to the archivist?”
“Love tap,” I said.
Well, maybe more like a spiritual spinal tap, but… details.
“Uhhh,” said Hunter, shuffling back another step from me. “I’m not gonna lie, I low-key kind of want my mom right now.”
“To be honest,” I droned, “if things went sideways for you, even if she was here, she wouldn’t be able to do anything.”
He gave a nervous laugh and took another step back.
But the last thing I wantedhimto do was bail.
“Look,” I said, blinking slowly. “Just tell me about the guy with the book and you’ll never hear from me again. Or… at least you won’t for a while. Hopefully, for your sake, a long while. But tell me quickly. Before Helena gets here.”
Just then, Helena, breathless and beautiful, darted into view at the end of the aisle.
Damnit.
“Thank God you’re here,” said Hunter, shuffling to get behind her, and he peered left and right once he got to the endcaps. “Wait… where’s security?”
“Grim,” Helena said, breaking toward me, those incredible eyes searching my face.
A surge of longing rushed through me as she neared, and it took every ounce of restraint I possessed not to grab her and pull her toward me, wrap my arms around her, crush her against me, breathe her in.
“Grim?” said Hunter, making a face.
“It’s… a nickname,” Helena threw back at him, thinking quickly even as she continued her approach, a deep blush coloring her cheeks as she neared me.
“Kinky,” said Hunter.
But he had no idea.
“So, wait,” said the kid, gesturing toward me, “does that mean this guy really is your boyfriend?”
Helena whipped her head toward Hunter and then back at me, ponytail swishing. When she arched her brows at me, I only gave her a shrug.
She hurried to close the remaining distance between us, one hand catching me by the arm, like she thought I’d dissipate to smoke right then and there. Like she thought grabbing on to me would—could—stop that even if I did.
“Yes, of course,” Helena said, tossing the response back Hunter’s way.
My throat tightened with her corroboration of my lie. With an “of course” of all things.
Claiming me as hers. Just like that.
That hurt. Like fuck.
I wasn’t her boyfriend. And couldn’t be.
