Page 108 of Female Fantasy
“You didn’t let me finish, asshole,” I say. “I said hemightbe The One. For Evelyn G. Carter. For Merriah. And maybe for some other lucky person out there.”
He turns a quarter of the way to glance at me, his breathingshallow. “But not for you?”
I shake my head. “No, not for me.”
Nico’s eyes widen for a second, and then he dons his mask of feigned boredom again.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” he says carefully. “I know you had a lot riding on meeting him. So what are you going to do now that even your perfect guy didn’t live up to your standards? Join the Peace Corps? Become a nun?”
“Shut up, dickwad,” I snap, even though I’m grinning from ear to ear. Truth is, I’ll take Nico teasing me over Nico giving me the silent treatment any day. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
He quirks a brow. “Get what?”
“Ryan Mare met my standards, Nico. Every box was checked. That wasn’t the issue.”
“Did you bring up Ryke and totally freak him out?” he asks, biting his lip. “Did he call you out for stalking him or something?”
I shake my head. “The issue is that my standards have changed. They’ve imploded, actually. Totally turned on their head.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.” I huff out a laugh. “Here I thought I was attracted to dark-haired good Samaritans with hero complexes. But as it turns out, pessimistic blond conspiracy theorists are more my speed. Who knew?”
Nico finally turns to face me fully.
He narrows his eyes.
“What are you saying, Joonie?” he asks. “Spell it out for me.”
“I realized I have feelings for someone else, idiot,” I say. “Someone unexpected. But the thing is, I think I may have ruined things before ever giving us a real chance.”
Nico rubs his chin, glancing sheepishly at me before looking away once more. “This mystery guy have a name?”
I grin. “You wouldn’t know him.”
“Well, this is just a shot in the dark here, but I’m guessing that if you explain yourself to him, apologize, and prepare to do a little bit of groveling, he’ll probably forgive you.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, my insides swelling with hope.
“Yeah.” He smiles back. “Call it a hunch.”
“And what would this groveling entail?”
“I’d prepare to get on your knees,” he says. “Maybe even beg.”
Suddenly, the twisting in my gut is replaced with burning heat.
We maintain eye contact for three seconds, then look away, laughing awkwardly.
“I guess we better get to Grand Central, huh?” My voice sounds practically falsetto. “And we’ll have to figure out which auto shop Tey’s truck is at sooner or later. Preferably before he yells so loud he blows out Oliver’s eardrums.”
Nico groans. “Don’t remind me. Maybe we should go on the run instead?”
I throw my head back and cackle. Nico watches me closely.
“What?” I ask. “Do I have something on my face?”
Then Nico—confident, bullishly stubborn Nico—does something totally out of character.
