Page 132 of Red Zone
Like he’s in no rush to go anywhere.
And neither am I.
The air in the Jeep is warmer now than it was earlier, but a faint chill still seeps through the cracked window, carrying with it the smell of salt and asphalt and him.
We sit there in silence for a while, watching a stray cat dart between cars, listening to the faint hum of the streetlight.
Eventually, he shifts in his seat, turning his head just enough to look at me.
“You gonna tell me what you’re really thinking right now?” he asks, his voice low and easy.
I glance at him, startled, and find his eyes already on mine.
The corner of his mouth curves up slightly, but it’s not the cocky smirk I’m used to.
It’s softer.
Like he already knows he’s gotten under my skin.
I hesitate, then turn in my seat to face him fully, tucking one knee under me as I lean back against the door.
The streetlight catches on the faint scruff at his jaw, on the shadows in his eyes.
And before I can even think about stopping myself, I ask quietly, “Do you ever wonder what happens if we get caught?”
He studies me for a long moment, then lets out a light chuckle, shaking his head like the thought doesn’t scare him at all.
“Not really,” he says simply, his gaze still locked on mine.
And somehow, that answer scares me more than anything.
I lean back against the seat, still facing him, my shoulder pressing lightly into the door.
The silence stretches again, but this time it feels different.
Not heavy. Not uncomfortable.
Just…full.
And when his lips part, like he’s about to say something else, I hold my breath—waiting.
“Tell me something no one else knows about you. Something you think no one would care to know or care about.”
I laugh, getting more comfortable before answering him. We talk for hours, about anything and everything. From the dreams we have for our futures to our favorite colors and bands.
When I quietly shut my bedroom door later that morning, it’s only a few hours until the day begins, and I can’t wait to see him again.
35
LYLA
By the time I leave my Wednesday morning lecture, my phone is already buzzing with notifications.
Emails, calendar reminders, and one text from Carter that just says don’t work too hard, Princess.
I can’t help the faint smile that pulls at my lips, even as I duck into the athletics building and head toward my first meeting of the day.
Grayson Bennett is already waiting when I get there, leaning back in the chair outside the conference room like he owns the place.
