Page 41 of Safe Place

Grant is a notorious playboy and as much as I love him, I’d never let him anywhere near Sophie like that.

Grant just smirks wider. “Wow. Possessive much? I’m kidding,” he says with both hands up in defense.

TWELVE

Have fun—with me

SOPHIE

“Good evening, miss. Can I help you with something?” the doorman at The Haven asks.

“I hope so,” I say, forcing a polite smile even though I’m still fuming. “Hi, Davis,” I add, glancing at his name tag. “I’m Sophie Lennox. I’m hoping to see Micah. He lives in the penthouse. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course. One moment.” He picks up the phone. “Hello, Mr. Vale? You have a guest—Sophie Lennox. Sounds good. I’ll send her up.”

He swipes his keycard and gestures toward the private elevator. “The penthouse button will take you straight there.”

“Thank you,” I say, though it takes effort to be polite when I’ve been burning with irritation my entire shift.

The elevator doors open, and I’m hit with the smell of garlic, butter, and something cheesy. Italian food. My stomach growls in betrayal. Great. Just what I need when I’m about to give him a piece of my mind.

“Hey Sophie!” Micah’s voice carries as he steps out of his bedroom, looking irritatingly casual—and irritatingly handsome—in another Westcliffe hoodie. “How was work?”

I cross my arms. “Hm, let’s see. I was working. Then, on my break, my friend came by, and we were having a nice time catching up.” I narrow my eyes. “Until some lunatic showed up saying God knows what. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Baby.” He has the audacity to smirk. “That has a nice ring to it.”

I hate the way my stomach flips at that. “Micah, what were you thinking? Why would you do that? Holden and I were having a nice conversation. We were about to make study plans⁠⁠—”

“Well, then I’m glad I cut in.”

“Why? He’s on the law school track. Same as me! I could’ve gotten real advice from him. He’s an upperclassman, already took the courses I’m taking⁠⁠—”

“You can study with me. I have a 4.0. Or Wyatt. He’s on the same track as Sinclair. And we’re both the same year as him. So take your pick.”

I let out a frustrated groan. “That’s not the point! Holden apologized for even visiting me. He said it was a mistake. He didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. And I couldn’t even tell him I had no idea what you were doing or that you were acting completely insane because then he’d think you're crazy.”

Micah tilts his head, studying me, looking entirely too smug for someone being yelled at. “And why would you care what he thinks about me?”

“You’re a lot of things, but you’re not crazy. I mean—,” I continue, heat rushing to my face. “You know what I mean.”

“I actually don’t. Please explain, baby,”His smile softens, and it’s unfair how much my chest tightens.

“Thought you had a 4.0,” I mutter. “And stop smiling at me like that.”

But the truth is, I can’t even stay mad at him. He’s been nothing but kind to me—helping me when he didn’t have to, driving me places, making sure I eat, even paying for dinner. I owe him, and that makes me even more frustrated because I can’t yell at him the way I want to.

“Micah, I want to live my life while I’m young,” I say, my voice softer now, almost unsure. “I’m turning twenty soon, and all I’ve done my entire life is work and study. And that’s all I’ll keep doing until—if—I even get into law school. I want to date. Have fun. Just be a college student for once.”

His response is immediate, firm, without hesitation. “Then do it. Date. Have fun—with me.”

My heart flips so hard it’s almost painful. I can feel his eyes on me, waiting, like he’s amused by how flustered I am.

I can’t think of a single thing to say. My throat is dry, and I’m sure my face is bright red. I don’t want to get hurt.

There’s nothing about me that stands out. I keep my hair short to save time blowdrying it after I shower, my clothes are average at best, and I’m not the kind of pretty that makes people take a second look. He’ll eventually get bored of me, which will happen sooner rather than later, exactly as Ella said.

But I know I’m lying to myself if I pretend I don’t feel anything. I do. Every time he smiles at me, every time his hand brushes mine, my heart races like it’s trying to escape my chest.