Page 80 of Severance

“It’s on my list. Do you plan on finishing upSalem’s Lot?”

“Maybe after finals.”

This is where I run out of small talk ideas. Besides gothic literature, there are other questions gnawing away at my brain, and the need to get them out pushes me over the edge. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me anymore.” My voice drops to a whisper, dissolving into the clatter of the busy dining room.

Mikah stares at me for a few seconds before breaking eye contact. “I just needed some time to figure things out.” His hand slides across the table and he nudges the edge of mine with his fingertips.

I still in my spot. My head begins to spin and my pulse pounds heavily in my ears. “Something’s going on between us,” I say quietly.

“Something is,” Mikah agrees, his hand unmoving as his eyes flick back to me, leisurely taking me in, and his Adam’s apple rolls slowly beneath his skin.

We sit like this for what seems like forever, looking at each other, our gazes dancing.

“Are you hungry?” he asks after a while. “Do you want something?”

“Sure.” I nod since my brain can’t think of anything better to say. I’m still processing. My heart beats madly against my chest and the sweat is already hard at work under the fabric of my tee.

I hear the muffled sound of a text message alert coming from my purse. Mikah leans back to draw his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. We both stare at our phones and then at each other.

“Is that Jess?” I ask, wondering if he received the same group invite I just did.

“Yeah.”

“She should really stop this mass texting thing.”

Jess has been doing it a lot. Come Monday morning, you can always expect a short letter from her with updates on the Miller case or Luke’s health. Wednesdays are usually reserved for the meet-up info. Today it’s an invite to a show Blaze is putting together to raise money for some charity.

“Right.” Mikah rolls his eyes and puts his phone away.

“Will you go?”

“I think I’ll be out of town.”

I’m convinced the distance he’s created between himself and the rest of the guys in the band is because he misses Dakota, but it could also be that he’s simply moved on while no one else has.

We walk out of the diner at around ten. The air is warm and fresh and smells like summer. Seeing a small group of kids crowding the entrance of Patty’s reminds me of my own high school days when Jess and I used to come here on Fridays to get our milkshake fix and stare at some of the boys on the football team. Well, mostly, she was the one who stared.

We stroll to my car. Mikah’s right behind me, his heat breaking through the warmth of the night and licking my skin through the damp fabric of my tee.

When we reach my Prius that’s parked at the very back of the lot—away from the noise—Mikah leans against it and offers me a cigarette.

I take it like a hopeless junkie.

We haven’t talked about what’s going on between us. Acknowledging the fact isn’t enough. On one hand, I blame Jess and her spammy text for sidetracking us, but on the other, I blame my fear of being rejected.

Mikah flicks his lighter and lights his cigarette.

It’s sick how much I love watching him smoke. There’s something lucidly genuine in the way he welcomes nicotine. He inhales slowly, his broad chest rising and falling. Then his face relaxes and his gaze burns against mine like a thousand fires.

“Did you readWuthering Heights?” I ask. I know my question is random, but books are always the safe topic with him.

“In high school.” Mikah nods.

“I take it you didn’t like it?”

“It wasn’t my favorite.”

“It wasn’t mine either.”

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