Page 42 of Challenge Me

I had a hundred questions I wanted to add to my ever-growing list, but they weren’t relevant to our agreement. He wasn’t always forthcoming, even if they were things I needed to know, so there was no point saving them for later.

I sat there, barely listening to the next question as I wondered: Would I seriously consider pursuing something with him? There were a dozen things that affected my answer. I wasn’t a fan of his plan to capitalize on the situation after it happened, but I couldn’t really blame him. Maybe it was selfish on my part to care that he’d wanted to seize the day, so to speak. Though we’d connected in an undeniable way back at his bar, it was clear that we were very different people.

Was that bad? I wasn’t entirely sure. Avery was my high school sweetheart, so I didn’t have any previous experience to use as a threshold.

Cracking Remi open was an impossible task. If only he’d stop making me wonder if I could change that.

Chapter 12

Remi

The hearth is cold, but still I beg the flame;

I burn my palms to feel its fleeting breath.

I bow to hunger, whispering its name,

And lay my head upon the lap of death.

I checked my phone for the hundredth time, but nothing had posted yet. It had only been five hours since the interview, but I couldn’t stop going over everything we’d said.

After Clara’s invasive questions, we’d found a middle ground between baseball and some romance. She’d tried to push the boundaries a bit, but both of us had been pretty united in redirecting. I was sure she’d find a way to stitch things together in a way that made us look as bad as she could manage, but she wouldn’t have much to manipulate.

Still, I worried. Had I fucked it up? Made him look bad? Pissed off Clara enough to make her edit the video to hell? I wouldn’t be surprised if she posted some wild propaganda piece to twist Amir into a soulless scoundrel.

If anyone should be vilified, it was me.

Looking over at Amir in the kitchen, I decided that if things went south, I’d make sure he didn’t get dragged through the mud. Maybe I couldn’t stop it, but I’d at least try.

He was a genuinely good person from everything I’d seen. A little uptight and arguably snooty at times, but good. I had no doubt that he’d do anything to make sure his family was taken care of, and that was something this world was in short supply of.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

He glanced at me, spatula in hand. All he really needed was an apron and less clothes. “No, I think it’s fine.”

Tipping my head back on the couch, I groaned. “Gods, you’re boring.”

I shouted in alarm when something cold struck me in the face. When I was on my feet, I scrubbed the water out of my eyes and held my palm up in case he decided to attack again. He was still holding the sprayer as if he was prepared to do just that.

“If you spray me again, I’ll bring a knife to a water fight, and I won’t apologize for it,” I warned.

“Now who’s boring?”

With a disgruntled sound, I headed into the kitchen. He was wary as I approached, which made me more interested in getting under his skin.

“Let’s tone down the abuse,” I suggested as I put my hand over his on the sprayer. After a second, he released it. I returned it to the sink and gave him an innocent smile. Even though he clearly didn’t trust me, he turned to flip the quesadillas in the pan.

I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, then filled it with ice water. My mind went back to that interview again, but not the actual substance of it. Like when we were on that couch, I touched his back and trailed my fingers up his spine. He reacted the same as before, leaning into my touch despite the fact that nobody was around to see it.

While I watched him cook, I continued the motion and drained my water. My fingers played at the collar of his shirt and touched the skin on the back of his neck. I saw his grip tighten on the spatula, but he didn’t stop me.

Since I was what people like him would call a monster, I quickly tugged the back of his shirt to pull it away from his neck, then I dumped the ice down it. He yelped, and the utensil flew out of his grasp. It clattered onto the floor as he danced around trying to get the cubes out of his shirt.

“Seriously, Remi?”

I set the glass down, prepared to run. Reaching around to his back, he shook out his shirt. It was impossible not to laugh as ice cubes fell to the floor one by one.

“You were too hot,” I said with a shrug. “Had to cool you off.”