Page 67 of Crossover

“What are the odds?”

Seriously, what are the freaking odds?

“I’ll have to tell Amanda I saw you,” Kyle said.

Shit.

Amanda was an old mutual friend of ours. More his friend than mine, really, and while nothing dramatic had happened that made me lose touch with her, this was a huge problem.

Grayson was discreetly glaring at me right now, which I seriously didn’t appreciate. It wasn’t my fault that out of all the diners in the United States of America, my old teenage crush walked into this one.

Clearly, the universe did not want us to get away with murdering rapist von pig back there.

If Kyle told anyone where we were before we had the chance to get away, we might as well send an invitation to the CIA SWAT team.

Think, Ivy. Think of how to stop this train wreck.Based on the look that Grayson was giving me right now, I didn’t put it past him to not follow Kyle into the parking lot and put a bullet in his skull.

Grayson said he would protect me, no matter what it took. Did that include ending innocent lives?

I guess I needed to have that little boundary conversation with him another time…

“Actually,” I said, “I’ve been meaning to call Amanda. I wanted to surprise her for her birthday.”

Yes! Look at my brain finally working! Her birthday was next week.

“Could you keep our run-in a secret until then? I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Of course,” Kyle said effortlessly.

I let out a breath, thankful that I must have at least one guardian angel.

“Thank you! And, hey…” Damn, look at me pulling my shit together, being all convincing and confident. “Let’s get together soon.”

Because again, that’s what you say to someone in this situation.

“Absolutely.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I was actually about to order a quick meal. Do you want to join me?”

I wasn’t sure if he was inviting just me or both me and Grayson. While I longed for the simplicity of conversation with a normal person who didn’t murder people for a living—and, yes, it was tempting, because maybe spending time with Kyle would tame my feelings for Grayson—it just couldn’t happen.

“I’m sorry, rain check?”

Kyle smiled. “Another time.”

Yeah. Maybe in another time, another place, life could go back to normal.

When he touched my shoulder, it looked like Grayson was debating snapping his fingers off.

Thankfully, Irritated Irene interrupted us by slamming a brown paper sack on the table.

“That’ll be sixteen dollars and seventy-three cents,” she said. “Not including tip.”

If I couldn’t cut the tension in here with a spoon, I would’ve smiled at her gumption. It took a lot of swagger for someone to expect a tip after already receiving fifty bucks.

Grayson was out of his seat, throwing a twenty-dollar bill on the table in the blink of an eye.

“Keep the change,” he said in a tense voice, then motioned to me. “We’d better go.”

“Right. Well”—I shuffled out of my seat and looked up at Kyle—“it was really good to see you.”

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