Page 142 of Red Zone
“You don’t have to sit in the quiet alone,” she says softly, almost shyly. “You know that, right?”
My chest goes a little tight at that.
And before I can stop myself, I say it.
“We can be alone together.”
The line goes still for half a second, and then she lets out another little laugh, warmer this time.
“That sounds…better than this,” she says. I know Madison went home with Jaxon for the holidays, and I’d really rather she not be alone.
I can practically hear her smiling.
And it makes mine widen as I murmur, “So…my place or yours this time?”
She huffs out a breath—amused, not annoyed—and for once, she doesn’t deflect.
“You can come to me this time. See you in ten?” she asks.
I’ve got my shoes back on and am walking out the door before I know it, driving the few blocks separating her place from mine.
The light over her door glows soft and gold against the dark, and when she opens it for me, she’s already barefoot, wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.
“Hey,” she says, her voice softer in person than it was on the phone.
“Hey,” I echo, stepping inside.
Her apartment is quiet but cozy—lights low, a candle burning on the counter, her laptop still open on the coffee table.
She shuts the door behind me and waves a hand toward the couch. “You hungry? My skills aren’t much better than yours in the kitchen, so your choices are ice cream, cup of noodles, or cup of noodles.”
I chuckle at that. “Cup of noodles sounds perfect.”
I kick my shoes off and sink into the cushions, watching her move through the little kitchen. A couple minutes later she comes back with two steaming cups of instant noodles, handing me one of them, along with a fork.
“Didn’t think you’d complain,” she says with a faint smirk.
“Not a chance,” I tell her, tearing open the packet of seasoning. “You kidding? This beats whatever’s left in the fridge at my house.”
She sits next to me, folding her legs under her, and for a little while we just eat in comfortable silence.
It’s…easy.
Maybe too easy.
I’m halfway through my cup when she glances over at me, her expression thoughtful.
“So…” She starts, twirling noodles around her fork. “What’re your plans for Christmas?”
I freeze for just a second, caught off guard by the question.
Then I shrug, keeping my eyes on the cup in my hands. “Nothing big. Just…hanging out, I guess.”
“Just hanging out?”
“Yeah.”
Her brows knit like she doesn’t quite buy it. “With who?”
