Page 27 of Eden's Joker

Shesounds like it’s not the first time something like that has happened.

I let her stew for a bit longer. Her fork is still suspended in mid-air, spaghetti starting to unravel from it, her pretty green eyes looking kind of lost. I don’t like the voice in my head telling me to break it off with her now, before it gets any worse. I don’t recognize that voice. Planning this revenge with her as the main attraction has been my focus for years.

“I’m just messing with you,” I finally say. “Of course there’ll be another date and you’re free to plan it however you want.”

She smiles and suddenly everything on her face and around her seems to sparkle. She really is a very beautiful woman. Especially when she’s happy. If things were different, I’d probably enjoy just making her happy all the time.

“Cartoons it is, then,” she says and sticks her fork back into her plate to fix the falling spaghetti. “Or maybe just some Netflix and chill.”

She winks at me as she brings the fork to her mouth and for the next couple of seconds I’m mesmerized by her lips moving as she chews. I’m surprised she knows about the real meaning of the phraseNetflix and chill, which is basically an open invitation to fucking.

“Why not both?” I say. “And maybe some pie to go with it.”

She finds that very funny. And the sound of her laugh is like chimes moving in the wind again.

I really couldn’t have picked a better target to exact my revenge through. She’s so innocent. So pure and clueless. She’ll break so nicely. Just shatter into a million pieces that no one will be able to put back together. Not even me.

Thankfully the voice telling me that’d be the wrong thing to do is staying dead silent now. As it should.

17

Eden

He kept me waiting two days before finally agreeing to a date. To be honest, I’d expected him to take me home—to wherever his home is—after that Italian dinner. I sure dropped enough hints that maybe he should. But all I got was a long, nighttime ride back to my car in the deserted mall parking lot and a kiss on the cheek. This guy either isn’t into me at all, or he’s so into me he doesn’t dare take the next step so he won’t mess anything up. Or a million things in between.

I wish I could talk to someone about him. Get some advice from the girls who are so much more knowledgeable than I am with guys. But as soon as word gets out that I’m finally dating someone, everyone will be all over us and I’m not ready for that either. I want him allto myself until I figure him out. And I’m sure I will eventually figure him out.

He’s coming over tonight, so we can watch the cartoons I promised him we’d watch. It’s after midnight because he said he couldn’t make it before, the town outside my windows is super quiet and I’ve cleaned and re-cleaned my apartment so much today, it smells like that flower shop I can see out my bedroom window. Not that it was dirty. I just needed something to do that allowed me not to think too hard. Even reading wasn’t cutting it.

I have the window open, listening to the telltale sound of a Harley approaching, but it’s so quiet I can hear the ancient redwood branches creaking in the forest all the way at the edge of town. I’m also holding my phone, expecting him to text that he’s not coming any minute now. And I’m so focused on those two things, and all the annoying implications they bring up, that the phone suddenly ringing sends my heart racing a mile a minute.

“Don’t tell me you’re not coming,” I say and I pick up the phone.

He chuckles. “I was just about to ask you pretty much the same thing. I’m already here, ringing your doorbell.”

I rush out of my apartment and down the stairs, apologizing as I go. He’s at the back door, the one that leads out into the narrow street with the flower shop. He’s dressed all in black and the street is dark,but somehow his eyes are glowing the way ice glows when the sun hits it anyway. He wears darkness like a cloak, walks in it like he owns it. I want to walk in that darkness beside him.

“Sorry, the doorbell must be broken,” I say as I let him in.

I’m wearing one of my flowing summer dresses and no shoes, and he seems to like that very much if his half grin as he checks me out is anything to go by.

“You said that a bunch times already,” he says as he steps inside and closes the door behind him. “I forgive you.”

We’re in the dark foyer now and his eyes still somehow glow. Those eyes are trying to suck me in. I can barely fight the pull. It’s amazing just how much I want him to see me naked. Such a silly thought, but so real in my head right now. And going by how deeply he’s looking at me, he might just be feeling the same way. I hope.

“Are we just gonna stand here?” he asks, his voice not quite as firm and commanding as it usually is,

“Right, yes, follow me,” I stammer and head back up the stairs, hoping my cheeks aren’t quite as red as I think they are.

The bouquet that is my apartment hits me full force as I open the door and I can clearly smell the cleaning chemicals underneath. I really overdid it with the cleaning.

He stands in the door looking over my studio apartment,an unreadable expression on his face. “Woah, now this place is precisely what I imagined your place would look like.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” I soften the question with a giggle, which doesn’t quite come out right. Too forced and stilted.

He gives me a lopsided grin as he closes the door behind him.

“It’s like a princess’ hideout,” he says. “All these whites and pinks and fluffy things.”

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