Page 32 of Death is My BFF

Why not! He has to be messing with you again. Gritting my teeth together, I chose my next words carefully. “I appreciate you coming all this way to apologize, but the things you said to me were unacceptable. Sorry or no sorry.”

I started to busy myself, hoping David would get the hint, when he reached out and caught my hand in his. I froze. “You’re right, my behavior was unacceptable. It annoyed me how you blew me off at the party, and I let my ego get in the way. I went too far. But I’m not a bad guy. Let me prove it to you. We’ll grab something to eat, and if you feel uncomfortable at any moment, I’ll leave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

My pulse rebounded faster and faster off his palm. “Why are you being so persistent?”

“I have a feeling you’re worth it.”

Despite my pride, I’ll admit asmallpart of me felt flattered, and my skin warmed.

The evil bird from earlier flew up to my face and hovered there with outstretched wings. Jumping back with a high-pitched scream, I knocked over a container of straws, and then hit the ground with my hands over my head.

“Whoa!” David swung his long legs over the counter and the booth became ten times smaller. “I got it. Stay down.”

After a few failed attempts to swat it away, David grabbed my clipboard and hit the bird square on. It darted out of the booth and flew away seemingly unharmed.

Our eyes connected.

“You okay?” he asked.

“What the hell is wrong with that bird?”

“No clue, that thing was out for blood.” A stack of cups tumbled over in the booth. Startled, David armed himself again with the clipboard, as if he expected a swarm of birds to follow, and I lost it.

I convulsed in laughter. As he watched, he lowered his arms and his stare intensified behind his sunglasses.

Standing this close, heat radiated from his clothes. I was painfully aware of how delicious he smelled too. I wanted to lean into him and press my nose into his chest . . .WTF? Stop it. Bad. Flustered, I drew my fingers away from his and retreated, bending down to pick up the straws.

David crouched down to help. His heat. His scent. He was so close. Nervousness crashed into my chest and rattled my heart.

“Thanks for saving me from the crow,” I muttered, as we stuffed the final few wrapped straws into the container.

“Raven,” David said. “At least, I think it was a raven. They’re larger than crows. And anytime.” He grabbed the container and we rose to our feet together.

“Should I wait around until your shift is over?” he asked.

I looked up at his aviators, wishing I could see the expression in his eyes. For a split second, I wondered if he liked me after all, which led to more conflict. Everyone knew David Star only dated supermodels, and I was no supermodel.

“Is this all about the car accident?” I queried, in a final attempt to get any ill intentions out into the open. “Did your father tell you to apologize to me so I wouldn’t leak to the press?”

“No, I came here on my own.” He held his arms out, exposing himself to me. “Listen, if you want to beat me up instead of hanging out, I understand. You might hurt your hands on my muscles, though . . . ” He stretched his arms wider, grinning ear to ear. “Hit me!” Now he’d earned the concerned stares of people walking by.

I wiped a hand across my own mouth to hide my amusement.

My morals must have been on intermission because I couldn’t say no to him anymore. Reaching out, I pushed his arms down to his sides.

“You’re ridiculous, and I get off at five.”

His smile was now warm and infectious. “Five it is. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

“Always keep your promises, David.” I repeated his own words at the D&S Tower.

He bent down, and for a split second, I thought he might kiss me. Instead, his lips brushed against the shell of my ear as he whispered, “And never lie.” Then he turned and vaulted over the counter before melting into the crowd.

VI

The final two hours of my shift felt like the countdown to my nervous breakdown.

This date was a disaster waiting to happen. What if he was playing another game with me? What if this was all a joke being recorded for a TV prank show? What if, what if, what if.

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