Page 74 of The Plus One Contract

“Craving a greasy burger.”

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“Any fries with that lie, or just the burger?”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “I should’ve gone with something more realistic, huh?”

“Maybe. You strike me more as a midnight cereal kind of girl.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You own at least four boxes of sugary cereal marketed to children, don’t you?”

“Lucky Charms are a lifestyle.”

“Sure they are.”

My stomach grumbles. “Kinda craving that burger for real now.”

There’s a beat of silence between us, and for a second, all I hear is the faint creak of a door and the distant shuffle of movement.

My stomach knots. “You’re still there?”

“Just locking up.”

“Is everything okay?”

His car door shuts. I hear the engine turn over. “It’s fine. She’s sleeping it off.”

“And you?”

“I’m good.”

He says it too fast. Too easily.

I hear the rhythmic click of his turn signal.

“I can’t believe you’re calling me from the car like we’re teenagers,” I murmur. “What’s next? You drive by my house with the windows down playingIn Your Eyes?”

He chuckles again, and this time, it’s a little stronger. “No promises.”

“God, I feel fifteen. I’m going to get in trouble if someone catches me talking to a boy this late.”

“Should I whisper sweet nothings into the receiver?” he teases. “Or send you a mixtape?”

“A mixtape? What is it? 1994?”

“Fine,” he says. “Spotify playlist.”

“That’s more like it.”

We lapse into a comfortable silence, the kind that fills rather than weighs.

“Hey, Sienna?” he says, his voice lower, almost hesitant.

“Yeah?”

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