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His eyes flare. “Later.”
I grin. “Holding you to that. Can I wear something of yours?”
“Grab whatever you want,” he says, turning to head to the kitchen.
* * *
Unfortunately,we only have time to eat actual food before I need him to take me back to my car so I can go to work, but when I get off seven hours later, I plan on going right back to him, whether he expects me to or not. I’m addicted to the way his tongue works, and we have so much more left to do.
Before I get into my car, something catches my eye across the parking lot. I study the darkened street where most stores are already closed. Through falling snowflakes and bristling wind, I think I make someone out. Someone who’s caught my attention.
New plan.
I follow the figure as they move, unaware of the tail they’ve picked up. Their hood is up and pulled snug, covering both sides of their face in an effort to keep the wind from throwing cold snow across their cheeks. They keep their head down, peeking up enough to make sure they don’t run into anybody or anything.
There aren’t many people on the streets on a Sunday night, and the ones out right now are hurrying to their cars or buildings, not worried about anything but getting out of the cold.
The figure darts into Perfectly Convenient, but I stay outside, pulling my coat tight around me as I huddle on the side of the building across the street. They move through the store, grabbing a couple of items, but the hood remains on, as do the black gloves on their hands.
When they get to the register, they chat with the worker—a young redheaded woman. I can make out a bit of concern on her face as she listens to the customer before her eyes bounce around, looking for something. She gestures to someone else and a man takes over her spot while she walks away.
They disappear around the corner, and I can no longer see them through the glass doors. I contemplate getting closer, but I don’t want to risk being seen. After about ten minutes, they both return to the front, but the customer never buys the items she had chosen.
She turns and heads for the door, her face visible under the bright fluorescent lights before she tucks her chin and steps into the cold.
Willow.
She was lurking outside my job before I came out. I told Quintin she had been following me, and this is just another instance. Is she obsessed with me? I’ve never had the tables turned on me like this. It’s…interesting.
Ezra
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Once again, Kaspian has disappeared. After our time together on Sunday, he went to work and never showed back up. A small part of me thought he would, but he’s also prone to doing his own thing without a word.
On Wednesday, however, I expect to see him. Not because I think he’ll come to see me, but because I remember him mentioning the day to Willow. They had a lunch date planned, and I’m starting to wonder what the hell is going on between them.
He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to see me with men or women. He’s possessive and jealous, which I can understand, yet he’s going out with Willow.
That’s not to say they’re fucking. Maybe they’re just friends. But something about it seems weird to me, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. They both seem to be forcing this to happen, but why?
We’ve not discussed what we are. Being a couple sounds weird, calling him my boyfriend is even stranger. Our relationship doesn’t fit within the bounds of what’s deemed an acceptable and normal relationship, so I don’t think we should tarnish it with labels that don’t fit. We are what we are—dysfunctional.
I’m sure to be in the lobby around the time Willow takes her lunch.
“Hey,” she says sheepishly as I walk up to her desk. “I’m so embarrassed about showing up to your place. Please erase it from your memory.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask with a small grin.
She looks up at me and gives me an appreciative smile. “You’re the best.”
Truth of the matter is, her words still linger in my brain.I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m losing it. Do you think people can change who they are? Be safe.
“How you doin’, though?” I ask.
She sighs. “Oh, I’m fine.” Her hands shake as she moves a folder to a drawer. She’s far from fine.
In fact, she’s slowly becoming a little more frazzled and distracted. I’ve noticed small changes in her the past couple weeks.
