Page 4 of Forget Me Twice

“Ah, yes. Because you are nothing more than a traumatized, orphaned, street urchin. A runaway princess with a tragic sob story.” Those eyes burn with derision. The blue is darkening dangerously, making them look more and more like the Marina’s Trench by the second.

“Couldn’t cope with foster care, so you decided what? To brave it on your own?” Each word hits like a slice across my skin.

For the first time since he sat down, his eyes slip away from mine, scanning up and to the left side of my face. He makes no effort to hide that he’s openly eyeballing the brutal scar that cuts back jaggedly from my temple and under my blonde hair.

He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to. That succinct call-out already has me at a solid disadvantage. The tops of my ears feel hot and my skin feels tight.

I stare back at him, sullenly. “And who areyou?”

I go to sip the drink clutched in a death grip between my palms, only to find the whipped cream has long since given up on life and started its slow descent into the lukewarm cocoa.

What a waste.

The mug returns to the table with a resentfulthunk.

“Sebastian Grayson.” He watches my face carefully, like he’s looking for even the smallest hint of recognition.

I raise my eyebrows slowly. “Freshly re-elected Mayor of Lexington, Sebastian Grayson?”

His own eyebrows inch up at the disbelief in my voice.

Everyone knows the name of man in charge of our City, but the truth is I’ve neveractuallylaid eyes on a member of City Council before. I’ve spent all my time and energy since I landed on the streets, trying to navigate and survive South Lex. I was never intrigued enough to pick up a newspaper.

Why would I care about what the suits and their pearl-clutching wives were up to on the other side of town?

The enraptured attention earlier this morning makes a lot more sense.The Mayor, here? In our shabby, low-income slice of Lexington?No wonder everyone was staring at him; fresh-pressed and polished, he does cut a striking figure.

But how do they not see how dangerous this guy is?

When he speaks again, it’s to repeat his earlier question, albeit more forcefully. “Sabine. What was the server’s name?” It’s a tone that says I should not even contemplate disobeying. My shoulders pull up a fraction. I must make a move like I am going to look towards the counter, to lay eyes on the bubbly blond that was my barista.

“Without looking at him, Sabine. What was his name?” Sebastian’s eyes are boring into me now, like he wants to trap my whole body in place with the sheer potency of his glare.

“Evan?” I finally answer, with a hint of uncertainty. I have no idea what he’s after.Is this a test?

“Is that a question? Or was his nameEvan, Sabine?” His brows are drawn down now, as he continues his scrutiny of my face. His scowl is intense. His tone ismoreintense.

“Not a question. His name was Evan. Is Evan,” I add quickly, like a confused afterthought.

He lifts his left wrist, touching his right index finger to the cufflink there. It seems like an absent gesture.Irritation?Something out of habit, perhaps. My eyes dart to the movement. The button is a golden bird. The same as his tie pin, I note now that I am close enough to see the details.A crow, maybe?

“Today’s menu. Recite it for me.”

I glance away from where he continues to press into the cufflink.

Menu?I shift slightly in my seat.

I can’t see today’s list of food and drinks from where we sit. It’s on the wall behind the counter, and the angle is all wrong. But I begin to recite the items anyway. “Espresso / Americano $2.50. Macchiato $2.50. Latte $3.50. Cappuccino $3.50. Mocha $4.00. Chai—“

He cuts me off with a barely-there wave of his hand.

“The bike rider, waiting at the lights. What color was the water bottle he was drinking from?”

The…biker? Why does he care about the biker?

“It was a fluorescent yellow. Stainless Steel. Had a logo down the side that said Lexington Razorbacks.”

Sebastian nods slowly. “The girl with the seeing eye dog. What color vest was the animal wearing?”

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