Page 51 of After Midnight

I twirl a lock of her long hair around my finger, and in my chest, my heart squeezes.

She’s right here, I tell myself.

But despite the very real Remi sitting right in front of me, I can’t help the need to study her, to try to ingrain every detail into my memory. Because even though she’s here right now, I know that she won’t always be, and when I board my plane tomorrow and head back to the coast, I want to carry every single one of these moments with me.

chapter 23

Sebastian

IT ONLY TAKES US ABOUT ten minutes to get to Remi’s place after leaving Whole Foods. It’s away from the Strip, and the housing community is dim and quiet, with only the occasional car passing by as we move slowly under the bands of streetlight, then pull up a driveway and into a clean one-car garage attached to a condo. My garage is crammed with surfboards and random shit I’ve collected over the years, but hers looks clean enough that we could probably have a picnic in it.

As Remi turns off the Jeep and the garage door closes behind us, she shifts to look at me, and there’s a sort of nervous anticipation in the way she grips the steering wheel, shoulders tight.

I let out a small laugh. “Are you okay?”

She bites her lip again—it’s really distracting—then nods once. “Yeah. It’s just . . .” Remi releases the tight hold on the steering wheel to tuck a strand of hair behind her pierced ear. “I’ve never had a guy over. Not since I bought the place.”

There’s that kick drum in my chest again. I try not to let the pleasant surprise show on my face. “Really?”

She nods once. “It’s . . . private, you know?”

My gaze flicks to the door leading into the house. The garage door light is still on overhead, casting everything in a warm yellow glow. “We don’t have to,” I say. “If you’d rather not—”

“No.” Her quick response drags my gaze back to hers. She still looks nervous, but there’s a steady conviction in her eyes too. “I want to.”

Heat creeps through my chest. I reach out to take her hand, then lift it to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Okay. Let’s go make tacos, then. I’m starving.”

We grab the grocery bags from the back; for now, I leave my travel bag in the Jeep. Just because Remi invited me over for dinner doesn’t mean she’s going to ask me to stay, and I don’t want to make an ass out of myself by assuming she will. I follow her up the few stairs to the door, and she bumps it open with her hip. Then she throws a look back at me, like this is her last chance to send me packing. I smile up at her, grocery bags in either hand, and finally, she smiles back—and leads me into her condo.

She peels her sneakers off and puts them in the closet, so I do the same, then trail after her as she leads the way to the kitchen. Everything is clean and minimal, with a white-and-cream color scheme. The condo smells good too, like lemon, and I take a deep breath of it as I set the grocery bags onto the white kitchen counter.

So, this is where she stood eating pizza that night we FaceTimed.

Slowly, my gaze slides down the hallway to an open door.

Is that where the bathtub is? I swallow hard at the memory of it.

Behind me, there’s the sound of a cap clinking onto the counter, and I turn to find that Remi has already opened a bottle of Corona for each of us.

“You like lime?” she asks.

“Hell yeah.”

Her smile is quick, but it still looks like tension is lingering behind her eyes. “Grab me one?”

“Sure.” I fish a lime out of the grocery bag, give it a quick wash in the sink, then toss it to her. She snatches it out of the air with a light laugh; maybe if I can get her to laugh more, she’ll feel less stressed. I pull the rest of the groceries out of the bags as she cuts us each a wedge and drops them into our bottles. Then she offers me one.

“Cheers,” she says.

I arch a brow, feeling the cool condensation clinging to the glass bottle. “To what?”

She twists her lips into a thoughtful expression, and it’s so fucking cute, I want to press my mouth to hers just to feel the shape of it. “To tacos,” she says at last. “And . . .” Her voice drops a bit. “To being here with you.”

With a grin, I clink my bottle against hers. “I’ll toast to you and tacos anytime.”

We both take a long drink. The Corona is cold and goes down smooth. Then I look around her condo and ask, “So, you wanna give me the grand tour?”

“There’s not much to see,” she says. “But sure.”