Page 32 of Devoted

Pity flickered in Rami’s brown eyes. “It’s okay. Start with why you were upset at the gym.”

I picked up the paper beer mat and tore a thin strip from it, concentrating on that so I didn’t have to look at Rami. My brain itched to use Nox as an out, but that wouldn’t be fair. Not to anybody. “I was upset about Sam.”

“Okaaay.” His curiosity was stretched through the two elongated syllables. “Who’s Sam?”

“He’s…a friend.”

“You have friends?”

I flicked up my middle finger without lifting my gaze.

“Sorry.” Rami laughed. “Couldn’t resist. So how’d you meet him?”

Speaking quickly, I ran through why I’d downloaded the game. How I’d been paired with Sam. The chats that had become full-blown conversations. Late-night sessions followed by catchups during the day. Checking my phone constantly in case I’d missed a notification. Buying a smart watch just to ensure that didn’t happen.

To his credit, Rami didn’t interrupt me once. He sat in silence until I ran out of steam, only then giving a low whistle. “Shit, Ez. I’ve never heard you talk about someone like this before.”

“I know,” I said miserably, staring at the small pile of paper that used to be a placemat. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?”

I huffed, slinking down in my chair. “We’ve become…friends. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“So? Why does that matter?”

I crossed my arms, my mouth stubbornly refusing to voice the words I needed.

“Ah,” Rami said. “You want to be more than friends. What’s the issue—you worried he’s fuck ugly?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “He could look like Boris Johnson crossed with Jim Davidson and I’d still be interested.”

Rami visibly shuddered. “BorisandDavidson? Surely not.”

I waved my hand impatiently. “You get the point. I don’t give a fuck what he looks like. I like him because I can talk to him. He has the same sense of humour as I do. I can ask him a million questions and he never gets irritated. What’s more,Inever get irritated. It’s like he’s woven some magic fucking spell over me. When I’m speaking to him, I’m not angry or grumpy. I’m just…me.”

His eyes softened. “Sam sounds like a great guy.”

“He is,” I said hollowly. “He’s far too good for me.”

“Is that the problem?”

“What? No.” I shook my head. “I’m not that self-sacrificing. I leave that shit to Micah.”

“Then whatisthe problem?”

I met Rami’s gaze, saying the four words that summed everything up. “He’s not my mate.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yup.” Needing something to do with my hands, I started trying to piece the placemat back together, like the world’s shittest puzzle. “He lives in London.”

“So? That doesn’t mean he’s not your mate.”

“There’s no pull.” My fingers trembled, accidentally sending several pieces flying. “Micah and Nox have both spoken about the pull they felt towards each other. Like a physical tugging in their chest. Nox felt it the whole time he was in Hell, but Micah didn’t experience it until they met, probably due to the distance. When they were in the same city though, they said it became impossible to ignore. The more they tried to resist it, the stronger it became.”

I forced myself to continue. To vocalise the thought I could no longer ignore. “Sam lives in the same city as me. There’s no pull. No instinctual need to go to a particular place where I might run into him.”

“What if you just need to meet him? Maybe this pull to keep speaking to him isbecausehe’s your mate.”

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