Page 61 of Texting Mr. Stranger

I smirk. “Is one on the lankier side?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s our man.”

“Are you going to …”

I shake my head. “They know I can’t do anything here, and neither can they. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be here, but this is good. It means our plan has worked.”

“We’ve successfully turned me into bait.”

“We can stop this anytime?—”

He cuts me off before I can finish. “No. I’m helping. Iwantto help.”

“For your mom,” I say, nodding.

She flinches. I want to snatch the words back. I sound so damn petty and judgmental. It’s like I need to know she feels the same as me, which is pretty damn unreasonable because I’m not even sure how I feel.Liar, a voice whispers. For a second, it sounds like my mother. I remember what Elio said. If Mom were still here, she’d want me to find someone.

After a pause, Bella says, “They’re still watching …”

Then she leans in and kisses me long and hard. It’s a forget-everything-else sort of kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that draws me in and makes the rest of the world not mean a damn thing. I gently smooth my hand over her cheek, then lean back, my whole body feeling light as air and hot as fire, full of need.

Need. Something is happening here. Something unique, and it feels so, so natural.

“They just got up and left,” Bella murmurs.

“That’s because they’ve seen everything they need to see. They know they can’t do a damn thing about it with all these civilians around. Well, neither can we.”

“So what do we do now?” she asks.

“What else?” I grin. “We enjoy our date.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

BELLA

“What did you talk about?” Emily asks, sitting cross-legged on the bed. She has that spent look she gets after a poetry frenzy.

“Music, mostly,” I say, my heart still beating hard from the second guitar performance Matt gave me on the ride home. “He’s so knowledgeable, and when he talks about music, it opens a whole different side of him. I felt it even when texting, but it’s so much more special in person.”

Emily has that same can’t-believe-this-is-happening expression on her face Mom was wearing earlier before I left for the date. “Does he still think you’re only doing this for Samantha’s tuition?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess so.”

“Are you okay with him thinking that?”

“I don’t know if he even thinks it. Sure, the date had a purpose, but it felt more than that.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Doesn’t it make me … weird …” I struggle to think of a better word. “… if I accept the dark part of him? He’s killed people, tortured them. Shouldn’t that make me afraid?”

“Maybe stop worrying about what itshouldmake you feel and just ask yourself how you really feel?”

I swallow, my hands spreading across my stomach. Since coming to this estate, my body has sent me bubbling, crazy signals. Theweirdestpart is that it all feels so natural as if this was meant to happen like a song played a thousand times. Yet, it feels new with each rendition.

“I feel like, when this is all over, I’d like to see where this goes.”

“Hmm.”

“What’shmmabout that?”

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