Page 35 of The Misfit

His mouth quirks at the sides, and I won’t lie, it’s kind of adorable. “Seemed like the right number.”

I sink into my designated chair, arranging my phone and purse at the precise angle. A little too far to the left, and my anxiety will skyrocket. “Three is my lucky number.”

“Mine too, and I guess luck’s on my side since you’re really here this time.”

“I know. I’m sorry about …” I trip over my words. “It’s usually me who’s scaring everyone away. I mean, have you seen the gloves?”

“Your gloves don’t scare me, Salem. If anything, you pique my curiosity by being nothing like all the others.”

“I’m not really sure if that’s a good or bad thing, especially since everyone already has their assumptions about me.”

Lee merely shrugs. “I find it best to ask before assuming. Assuming makes an ass out of both of us.”

The way he speaks without a hint of judgment and the aloof energy surrounding him set me at ease. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by anything I’m doing. Something in my chest cracks open, the pressure escaping like air out of a tiny hole in a balloon.

This is definitely going to be a problem.

“You’re doing that thing again.” He leans forward. His elbow nearly knocks over the sugar packets, but he catches himself at the last second.

“What thing?” I try to sound casual while counting the ceiling tiles above his head.Forty-three.Always forty-three.

“That thing where you pretend you’re not counting everything in sight.” His voice drops a little lower, intimate. “All while I’m trying my hardest not to memorize every single detail about you.”

Heat crawls up my neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” He grins, all dimples and dangerous charm. “So you haven’t noticed that I’m wearing a clean shirt? Or that I used your favorite sanitizer brand? Or that I’ve been watching your lips move while you count under your breath?”

I freeze because it feels like a trap. I’ve noticed. Subconsciously. The shirt he’s wearing (crisp black cotton, probably fresh from the package), the sanitizer (the expensive kind that doesn’t leave residue), and the way he almost touches me but stops just short of doing so, like he’s mentally reminding himself.

“You’re …” I swallow hard. “You’re very observant.”

“Only about things that matter.” His fingers drum against the table, creating a rhythm that matches my pulse. “Only about you.”

Only about me?He doesn’t even really know me. I mean, unless you take into account all the rumors and negative things said. The words hang between us, too honest for whatever this is supposed to be. Lee is a lot. His ADHD energy radiates across the table, making my skin buzz.

It’s a miracle, but somehow, it doesn’t set off my usual alarms.

“Well, look who it is. The freak and the fag.” Marcus’s voice cuts through our bubble like a knife. Lee’s whole demeanor shifts in an instant. Gone is the playful flirt, and in his place sits something dangerous and possessive. Before I can process what’s happening, he’s sliding around the table, directly into my space on the other side.

“Trust me,” he breathes against my neck.

Trust? I can’t trust him.I barely know him.

Although I don’t say either of those things. Not that it would stop him since his arm is already wrapping around my waist and pulling me against him.

Panic claws at my insides. I need to count, run, to … the panic starts to recede with every breath I take, and I focus my attention on his touch.

Careful. Deliberate. Clean.

His lips brush my ear. “Breathe, Salem. One, two, three, baby. I’ve got you.”

Then he tips his chin up at Marcus. I look up at Marcus too and bite back a gasp. Marcus’s face is swollen, both eyes black and blue.

“Hey, man, what happened? The vacuum cleaner you use to suck your dick finally fight back?”

A couple of the guys with him snicker, and Marcus shoots them a glare.

“Sterling …” That’s all he says in response, and man, is it loaded. Did Lee just replace me at the top of Marcus’s most-hated list?

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