Page 34 of I Did Something Bad
His eyes drop, clocking my outfit change. “You changed,” he says.
“I sweated through my clothes. They were disgusting.”
“You looked good to me,” he says, and, stupidly, frustratingly, I feel my face redden like I’m a teenager and my biggest crush has just tossed an unexpected compliment in my direction.
“Why are you still here?” I demand.
“Flat tire,” he says, jerking a thumb behind him but holding my gaze. “Yan was just finishing changing it.”
“Then you should go back and get home sohecan go home, too.”
“Where are you going?”
I purse my lips. “None of your business.”
He studies me in silence. “You’re right,” he finally says, except instead of walking away, his mouth loops upward with an air of righteousness. A dare. “But let me give you a free ride. Save the cab fare.”
I blow out a sharp blast of air through my nostrils and promise myself that I willnotlet him get under my skin, at least not more so than he’s already burrowed. “I can afford a taxi. Have a good evening. See you tomorrow.”
He steps in closer, so close that the brim of his cap brushes against my forehead and tilts marginally upward so that it’s shielding both of our faces. I’m a champion at staring contests, but I’ve never had one this up close with somebody. I can see every faint line and acne scar on his face, the spots he missed with his makeup wipes, every single hair that makes up his thick brows. That scent, still a tender crispness that simultaneously contradicts its own tough woodsiness.
“Khin,” he says, voice gravelly. Does he somehow know thatthat’show he keeps making my brain glitch? “Where are you going?”
“A date,” I lie, and am surprised when his face muscles twitch. For the first time, he looks away.
But then he looks back at me, recomposed, smirk as vengefully arrogant as ever. “You’re lying.” His eyes motion down at my outfit. “You’d be dressed considerably better for a date. Scuffed black sneakers? Come on, this isn’t even you trying.”
I glare, angry that he’s spoiled my lie so quickly, and also startled by how spot-on he is. “Has anyone told you you’re insufferable?” I ask, moving back and out of the shadow of his cap.
“Just this absolutely antagonistic journalist I recently met,” he says, readjusting it downward.
Despite myself, my mouth twitches with a smile that I don’t pullback in time. Tyler’s face softens, and he scans my outfit once more. When his eyes draw back up to mine, he sighs and shakes his head, jaw clenching. “Park?”
I bite my bottom lip, neither confirming nor denying.
“Youareaware that it’s a commonly known fact that perpetrators can’t help but return to the scene of the crime. You’re smarter than to become a walking cliché, aren’t you?”
“Only if you get caught, and look at me”—I motion at myself from head to toe—“I’m as inconspicuous as they come. Besides, it’s the city’s biggest park. It’s not illegal to go hang out in the park. Maybe I wanted to clear my head after a long day at work.”
“Huh, now that you mention it, thatdoessound like a good idea. Come on, I’ll join you,” he says, tilting his head back at the car where Yan is waiting on the sidewalk, and with the air of a parent giving in to the demands of an unrelenting child.
I want to laugh in his face. “You can’t go to the park at sunset,” I say, because someone needs to state the obvious here. “You’ll be mobbed. Remember what I just said about not getting caught as long as I remain inconspicuous?”
He contemplates it for a beat. “I’ll wait in the car.”
“Yan will know something’s up. I have to go alone. I don’t need a handler.”
“That’d be a little bit more convincing if the last time I left you to stray alone in a park, ithadn’tended in murder,” he huffs. “You’re not going alone. It’s about the pen, isn’t it? What is it about this pen that’s got you so worried anyway?”
The full truth is that the pen is monogrammed with my initials, which, while not exactly as damning as DNA evidence—thank God my initials aren’t as idiosyncratic as, say, XXZ—isstill pretty damning. But Tyler’s already in macho protective mode, and I have the sense that if he finds out that piece of information, he’s going to go intooverdrive and probably insist he come help me find it himself, which is something I do not have the patience to contend with right now.
“You’re not coming. I’m not taking any risks,” I say. “This isn’t up for debate.”
He folds his arms. “You’re right. It’s not.” Our sixth-grade staring contest resumes. After many seconds of this, he says, still unblinking, “What if we told Yan to go home? We can still take the car.”
I chew my lip as I think. “What if they run the license plate on the security cameras?”
“Then I simply wanted to unwind in the park tonight. You know,clear my head after a long day at work.That’s not a crime.”
