Page 67 of Can't Help Falling

“Did it work? Did he buy it, get super impressed and fall madly in love?”

Fin pursed her lips and shook her head. “No. Well, sort of. He was super impressed with the food. But I didn’t know that he was kind of a foodie. So he kept pumping me for the recipe. Eventually I had to come clean.”

“Let me guess,” Tyler said dryly. “He was so enamored with you trying to impress little old him that he didn’t care one bit, and the date went well anyway.”

Fin narrowed her eyes. “So?”

Tyler opened his mouth to retort, but Kylie’s phone rang from her pocket. “It’s Mary. I’m gonna answer.”

She scampered away into the other room, her bagel still in her hand.

Kylie came bopping back out of the room again, but this time with her backpack over her shoulder. “Mary’s main weekend help just called in sick and she wanted to know if I’d come help for a little bit this morning.”

Tyler’s brow went down. “You can only work fifteen hours a week.”

“I only worked twelve this week. And if I get more than three, then I’ll count them toward next week. It’s Saturday! Come on. Saturday straddles the line between the two weeks.”

“You’re seriously this excited about work on a Saturday morning?”

“You’re seriously going to jump up my ass for being excited about work on a Saturday morning?” She put one hand on her hip. “Would you prefer I sneak off to do drugs on an abandoned playground? Or have unprotected s—”

Tyler groaned and held up a hand to stop her. “Please don’t continue. Let me just get my shoes and we’ll go.”

“That’s okay. I can take the train.”

Kylie was already slipping her own shoes on, setting her bagel down just long enough to get her coat zipped up.

“You mean alone?” Tyler looked surprised.

“Sure. Ty, the trains aren’t rocket science. I’m only going to Cobble Hill.”

“How would you get there, then?” he quizzed her.

Kylie paused. “I’ll take the Q from the Prospect Park station,” she turned to Fin. “Unless Parkside is closer?”

Fin shook her head, her mouth filled with bagel and her eyes bouncing back and forth between Ty and Ky. “Nope. Prospect Park is closer.”

“And then I’ll transfer to the bus that goes up Atlantic. Boom. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Weekend trains,” Tyler protested weakly.

“You know, Ty, I happen to be in high school and this may come as a shocker to you, but I can actually read signs. If there’s any wonky weekend trains, I’ll change my route or I’ll call you, okay?”

“I—” He was standing, one hand in his hair, looking befuddled. “Call me when you get there?”

“I’ll text you when I get there,” she amended. “Thanks for breakfast, and thanks for the guest room, Fin!”

The front door slammed and then Tyler and Fin were alone in her apartment, only a plate full of bagels as a flimsy excuse for him to be there.

Still standing, his hair a mess, Tyler looked down at the bagel in his hand, at his shoes at the door and then at Fin. “I’ll go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Sit down. Finish your breakfast.” She ignored the fact that her heart was doing its best to pump jittery Kool-Aid down to her fingertips.

He sat again and this time, with no Kylie to distract him, his eyes wandered her apartment.

“I like your place.”

“Really?” She was surprised. She looked around at the copious potted plants, crystals and baubles hanging in the windows, the deep colors and antique furniture. “It’s really not your style.”

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