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“The books falling?” I asked, having heard a small topple from somewhere below us.
“No. The sound after the topple. Like a laugh? A strange, tinkling little laugh.”
“No. Missed it,” I said, shrugging. “What?” I asked when her face fell at those words.
“I really need a brain scan,” she said, rubbing the arms of her chunky sweater that did far too good a job covering up her body.
“A… brain scan?” I repeated.
“You know… to check for any abnormalities.”
“Your brain seems to be working just fine.”
“Except that I’ve become really clumsy lately, and keep hearing this strange laugh.”
“Maybe the clumsiness comes from not getting sleep? In a bed, not at a desk,” I added.
“You’re probably right about that,” she agreed, shuffling her stuff together again. “Actually, speaking of that. I think I should get going. To, you know, get some rest,” she said, moving to stand, and nearly knocking her chair over. “Maybe tomorrow?” she asked, but wasn’t waiting for a reply.
By the time I got to my feet, she was already rushing away.
Leaving me to watch her and pretend that it wasn’t another rush of disappointment I felt right then.
“The fuck is wrong with me?” I grumbled, grabbing my notebook, and making my way out of the building as well.
I shouldn’t have been able to hear her.
Not with how far away she was when I did.
But I heard her.
Screaming.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Charlotte
I’m not proud to admit this, but I was crushed.
I know.
Ridiculous, right?
Who felt crushed that the guy they’d—stupidly—hooked up with showed up again and acted like nothing happened?
I mean, okay, objectively, maybe a lot of women. But I didn’t want to be one of them, damnit. I wanted to be able to call it a fun, casual, no-strings-attached time. I wanted to be able to compartmentalize it in my head.
But when he dropped down at the table, asking about the monsters, well, I’d been blindsided and overcome with a surge of disappointment and vulnerability I hadn’t been anticipating.
It was why I’d been so quick to jump on his suggestion to get some more sleep.
Not because I thought I would. No, I was pretty sure I would toss and turn, mind flip-flopping between desire for him and vulnerability and insecurity about having gone as far as we had already. Because, to me, it had been very, very memorable. To him, it seemed, it was like any other night of the week.
I didn’t want it to, but that hurt.
No one wanted to be forgettable.
Especially when they were going out of their comfort zone for somebody.
