Page 27 of Crossing Lines

I twist my mouth and hum.

“That spark I saw between y’all doesn’t care,” Preston chuckles.

“Don’t start any bullshit,” Cairo warns me after lightly punching his arm. “Stay as friends.”

“Pres, baby!” Moya struts over excitedly, leans into his side, and tips for a smooch. “Oh my gosh! Everything looks amazing. You’re so talented.”

“Aw, thanks, babe,” Preston beams in return.

I share a look with Cairo. It seems we’re both surprised to see Moya is still around.

She flicks her twinkling eyes from him to acknowledge us. “Sup, guys?”

“Sup?” we reply in sync, bobbing.

Turning to Preston, she implores, “Babe, tell me about your inspiration behind all the photos.”

His grin grows wider. “Sure. First of all, I love black-and-white imagery.” He goes on and on as they wander off.

“Didn’t think I’d see her with him again after opening night,” Cairo remarks, watching them.

“Yeah, I’m surprised. Maybe Pres likes…” My voice falls as I glimpse Davia in the window, walking past the gallery. “Be right back.” I dash outside and call out, “Davi.”

She staggers to a stop and looks back sideways, eyes fluttering. “Kross.”

“How’s it going?” I ask, feeling a surge.

“I’m heading home.” She pivots and continues to her car.

“Hold on.” I close the distance. “I’m here for Preston’s photography display. Want to look around? His work is pretty cool.”

She wobbles her head, not meeting my gaze. “I’m sure it is, but I’ve had a long day. I’m tired.”

“Hi, Kross!” I slant, confused by the unfamiliar woman beaming at me. “See you inside.” She continues into the gallery.

Shrugging it off, I refocus on Davia. “So I’ll see you when I see you then.”

“Actually.” She moves from her car. “I’ll check out your friend’s work.”

“Thought you were too tired?”

Her curls sway as she shakes her head. “It’s fine. I like supporting my people.” She steps past me and enters the gallery.

Wait, is that jealousy? It proves she’s feeling me, and I’m not sure I can ignore it now that I’m confident our attraction is mutual.

Davia exchanges a few words with Preston before viewing the photos. I ignore his sly grin and follow her.

“Wow,” she murmurs. “This is great. Preston only shoots black and white?”

“Mostly, but he accommodates clients.” I pause beside her at a shot of Inner Harbor. “You want me to grab a drink for you?”

“No, I had wine with Trishell.” She lowers her gaze to the floor, gnawing at her bottom lip while messing with her jacket.

“So last night on the rooftop,” I start, gauging her.

She touches her neck. “We shouldn’t have gone up there. We were alone. It wasn’t…”

“Long enough.” I edge closer, shamelessly inhaling her exquisite fragrance. “Damn, you smell fucking good.”

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