Page 26 of Quinlan

“Thank you.” She nods, fingering the leather strap of her bag. “I hope they think so too.”

The doors to the elevator slide closed. “They? Your professors?”

We moved in here around the same time, and while I’ve been working, Ray—who’s three years younger than I am—attends college and works part time in an accounting firm.

She’s told me all about it in the few times we went up to drink wine on the roof. Drinks Rex knows nothing about.

“I have an interview at a law firm today.” Her teeth are about to dig into her bottom lip. She quickly tugs them away, with good reason. It would’ve ruined her perfectly applied mocha colored lipstick. “As a paralegal. I’m so excited that I haven’t slept all night.”

Law firm.

My mystery man. The lawyer.

Not mine.

Anyway. Fuck. This has to be a coincidence.

“This is news. You never t—” My throat is choked at the surprise, and I cough, clearing it. “You never mentioned anything about being a paralegal.”

“It’s relatively new.” We make it to the ground floor, both of us heading out. My feet scuff on the floor, her heels clink. “Last month, I woke up and decided accounting wasn’t for me. I’m going to apply to law school. Become a lawyer.”

“That’s incredible, Ray.” A smile stretches on my face. “Good luck in the interview, then. I’m sure you’ll kill it.”

I’m happy for her. I can’t stop thinking about the smoldering sapphire eyes from yesterday. The lawyer who made my knees weak, my heart stutter, and my dreams dirty.

The butterflies in my stomach are fucking wild.

“Thanks.” She lifts her hands between us. “Fingers crossed.”

I mimic her, crossing my fingers in one hand, pushing open the door to the building with the other.

A gorgeous morning awaits us outside. The sun shines above us. Then a burst of wind swoops in, whipping a loose strand of hair into my eyes.

Ray strides out of the building, stopping three feet away from me, texting someone while I watch. The street, not her.

I’m curious. And hopeful. He could be here. I might not have time to date or kiss him, but I have time to look for him. I scan the street, checking out every person and car around me. On the pavement. On the road. Across the street.

I don’t want him. I just want to see him. There’s a difference.

A couple rush toward the nearest subway, each of them on their phones. There’s a woman crossing the road, walking her German Shepherd.

A tall man stands out. He’s wearing a suit so dark it’s almost black. A strand of his wavy black hair drapes down his forehead. I think his eyes are golden, or amber. I’ll find out soon enough.

He’s coming over here. No, that’s wrong. Heprowls.

Oh, no. Oh, shit. He’s staring back. Right at me.

Is he… Did he catch me looking at him?

Heat, worse than before, sears my already hot skin. A rope cinches itself around my lungs and tugs.

This isn’t happening to me. Can’t be. He’s probably looking straight ahead and I’m being paranoid. After yesterday, it’s no wonder.

Afterhim.

Andheisn’t here.

My heart dips to the floor. Foolish, foolish heart. Disappointed in not seeing a man I hadn’t met before yesterday. A man I’m pretty sure had been stalking me.

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