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“Wasn’t this like—” She wrinkled up her face and glanced to the side for a moment as she calculated the time. “Three days ago?”
“Yep.”
Her brows shot up to her hairline. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“It’s not important, so I practically forgot about the whole thing.” Except I hadn’t forgotten. Running Man had taken over far more of my brain space than he deserved.
Morgan flattened her lips into a line. “You didn’t forget.”
“Eh,” I said. My best friend knew me too well. “Anyway, he assailed me in the alley by saying something about an indecent proposal. I don’t know.”
“So itwasa sex thing?”
I shrugged. “Maybe? But then that makes the whole job side of it even more offensive.”
“He thinks you’re a prostitute?”
“Maybe he wants to Pretty Woman me. Or murder me. I don’t know. I left.”
Morgan looked full-on panicked. I hadn’t meant to scare her. I was basically talking myself through it and processing as Iwent. It would help a lot if I had a filter, but we both knew I didn’t.
“I’m not telling this right. It’s fine, I promise,” I said. “He’s not a murderer. And he won’t come back.”
“How can you know that?”
I shrugged. “He’s not scary, just…infuriating.”
She hummed, a soft, almost inaudible sound of skepticism.
“Really, he didn’t seem to get that it would be inappropriate to show up where I live to talk to me. Like when I told him he was being creepy, he looked genuinely confused and maybe even remorseful? I don’t know. When I see him I just want to smack him in the face, so it’s hard to analyze these things with a level head.”
“You want to hit him in the face…like when you kicked the door into him.”
Why was I saying all of this so wrong? I sighed. “I didn’tmeanto hit him. How was I supposed to know he was there? And then he goes and acts like I would do that on purpose. Ugh. He’s the worst, Morgan.”
“Youcall meif he shows up at your place again.”
“He won’t. I haven’t seen him in days. I’m worried he might have changed his running route because of me.”
“How would that be abadthing?”
“Because I can’t imagine smacking that tight butt as he runs by,” I said with a forced chuckle.And I’m starting to worry that bickering with him lit a fire in me, that it inspired me to write, and now if I don’t see him again, it could be gone.
I kept that part to myself.
I couldn’t say it. I didn’t even want tothinkit.
My phone rang again. This time I answered.“What?”
Morgan sipped her beer and watched me with concerned interest.
“Layana, you have to come in tonight.” Edwardo said. “Brandon called out.”
“No.”
“Are you sick, too?”
“No, I’m out living my life. On my day off where I’m not interested in thinking about tea or coffee or dirt muffins.”
