Page 62 of Save Me

No.

I’m not falling for him.

Yes, he’s hot as fuck. And the sex is amazing. But I’m not ready for whatever I can see he wants when I look into his eyes.

I shake my head.

“Shouldn’t you thank your mystery man for sending lunch?” Kelsey asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Yes,” I agree. I grab my phone off my desk and start to call but think better of it. I opt to send him a text. I know it’s more impersonal, but I need to put some space between Dae and me.

Me: Thank you for lunch. It was delicious. My coworker and I enjoyed it.

I don’t bother confessing that Thai food is another one of my favorites, nor do I tell him that if given the choice, I could live on spring rolls and pad thai.

How does he know all of my favorites?

The question comes to me. Why all of a sudden is it just coming to me? I don’t know, but once asked, I can’t help but grow more confused. The man seems to know so much more about me than I know about him.

From my favorite color and type of food I prefer to my ideal date.

Kelsey mentions this Friday’s happy hour again, still trying to convince me to go.

My phone buzzes. It’s a text message from Dae.

Dae: What coworker?

I narrow my eyes.

It’s impossible to discern tone, or for that matter intent, behind the words typed into a text message. However, I can sense the jealousy. A vision of Dae with his eyebrows pinched, glaring at his phone, awaiting my response, pops into my mind.

Me: A friend. I have to go. Thank you again.

He responds within seconds.

Dae: Does this friend have a name?

I narrow my eyes but don’t respond.

Dae: How about you tell me about all of your work friends on our next date. This Friday.

He doesn’t use question marks. As if he assumes I’ll agree automatically to whatever he says.

Without thinking, I type out:

Me: Can’t. I have a work meeting this Friday evening. Maybe next time.

I ignore the wave of tension that rolls through my belly as I put my phone on silent and place it on my desk facedown.

“I think I’ll go to this week’s happy hour,” I tell Kels.

Her eyebrows raise. “Awesome. It’ll be fun,” she says as she bumps my shoulder and stands. “I have to go. Thanks for lunch. Oh,” she stops and smirks, “more like thanks to your mystery man for lunch. I hope you thanked him for me.”

I wave her off. I start to tell her that he’s not a big deal, but the words stick in my throat. They sound eerily like a lie to my own mouth.

I shake that feeling off.

“I did,” I mumble to Kels before she walks away.

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