Page 72 of The Heat of Us

Impossible, there has to be something.

“But, you can come anyway,” she said softly. “I’d…like to see you too.”

This is the best day of my entire—

“I’m leaving now, I’ll see you soon!”

I hung up before she could change her mind.

My heart was a runaway train about to tear through my chest by the time I arrived at her door. The itch under my skin was maddening. Why was that? Heat pheromones? Being apart?

The door swung open. Her sweet scent hit me. I felt like I was falling, the ground rushing up towards me as I—

—landed firmly in the shade of trees bursting with dainty white flowers. Her lips found mine, and the wind swept away our whispered promises.

Fuck.

Be cool, Remy.

25

HAZEL

It was strange having Remy in my space, not to work but just to…be there. He clearly felt it too, slipping off his shoes and jacket before hovering awkwardly near my hallway table. I snorted when he went to high-five my porcelain lucky cat with his fingertip and accidentally knocked it over.

I’d missed him, I realised.

And it had taken everything in me not to pull his head down to mine and scent mark the shit out of him the very second that door had opened.

I wasn’t really sure what to do about the bag of chocolate he hurriedly pressed into my hands when I answered the door. I settled for squashing it tetris-style in my pantry.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I offered him as he shuffled his way over to the other side of my kitchen counter.

“Yeah. Please. Water is fine.”

I slid a glass towards him.

He had a small smile as he set it back down.

“What?” I prompted.

“It’s like I can hear my aunties telling me off for drinking fridge-cold water.”

“Oh my god, I knew you had to be Asian,” I burst out and Remy laughed. It had been bothering me from the moment I saw him — a familiarity I couldn’t place. “You’re half, right? Half what?”

His crooked grin taunted me. “Guess.”

“Fuck off, don’t do that to me.”

Remy’s eyes twinkled. “Malaysian.”

“Ooh.” I nodded discerningly. “I can see it now that you’ve said it.”

He took another sip and I swore he was doing it more erotically somehow. Was it the eye contact? The way he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after?

Good god, woman, get a grip.

“You could’ve just asked, you know.” He looked amused that I had been wanting to know for so long.

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