Page 35 of Burning Daylight
“I was.” I cross my arms slowly. “Are you stalking me?”
She licks her bottom lip, her gaze lifting to mine from beneath those long, dark lashes, and my stomach tightens like a vise.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she replies.
Something uneasy curls in my chest, because she’s being oddly nice. But I’ll take it, because if she leaves, then I’m left alone to face my problems—my family’s problems—and she’s a hell of a nice reprieve.
The perfect distraction.
Especially since my mom was a no-show.
Tilting my head, I let my eyes roam, dragging slowly down her frame before crawling back up again. When our gazes meet, she’s blushing—because of course she is—flushed all the way to her ears.
It’s theexactshade of pink I’ve been chasing in that damn drawing.
“Not that I’m complaining, but how do you know where I live?” I ask.
“I saw you at the coffee shop,” she admits. “And…followed you.”
A slow grin spreads across my face. “So, youarestalking me.”
“I amnotstalking you.”
“It’s okay, Princess. Really, I like it.”
She squints. “You’d like to have a stalker?”
“Depends.” I lean in, placing my arm above her head on the top of the doorframe, just close enough to feel the heat coming off her skin. “Does the stalker look like you?”
She scoffs. “So, it’s only creepy if they’re ugly? That’s fucked up.”
“I prefer the termselectively unbothered.”
She groans, dragging a hand over her face. “Oh myGod, why did I think coming here would be a good idea?”
“Anything involving you and me is a good idea.”
Now she laughs, and it shoots straight through my chest.
“I like that,” I blurt like an idiot.
She quiets, sending me a questioning look. “You like what?”
“Your laugh.”
The air between us shifts, feeling thicker somehow. Charged. Like if I moved even half an inch closer, something would combust.
“I’mnotstalking you,” she says again. “I wanted to apologize, actually.”
“Should I be worried? You’re kind of giving… What did you call it?Serial killer vibes.”
Her blush expands, coloring down her neck. My fingers twitch with the urge to trace it. Or sketch it. Or lick it.
“Please, we arenotthe same,” she protests.
“Oh, I agree.” I smirk, letting my gaze drop to her mouth. “But you know what they say. Opposites attract.”
She cracks a small grin. “Are you gonna invite me in so I can say I’m sorry or what?”
