Page 49 of Perfect
I need to get to someplace better lit, with a lot more people. I pull out my phone to help me navigate downtown and another text pops up.
Theo, 7:03 PM:
Can you please fucking answer me?
“Crazy asshole,” I mutter as I read the message.
“What is your problem today?”
I scream and spin around, finding Theo right behind me, looking down at me with a cold, polite smile and his arms crossed over his chest.
Fuck, he’s quiet.
“Um, I didn’t sleep well, and I’m not feeling like myself. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry,” I say, trying to keep my voice sweet and placating as I take a small step back from him. I can make this work, but I need him to not be angry with me. He sighs and cocks his head to the side a little, scrutinizing my face. Whatever he sees makes his expression soften into something concerned but still irritated.
“Well, I don’t like being ignoredorinsulted, okay?”
“Okay,” I say quietly, taking one more tiny step away from him.
“Let’s get you inside.”
“What are you talking about?” He frowns and hooks a thumb over his shoulder silently, and I look behind him at the large house visible through the trees.
There’s no fucking way.
“Is thatyourhouse?”
He looks at me, puzzled. “Yeah, I sent you my address when you started walking. Did you seriously not readanyof my texts?”
“My phone was on silent.”
“Wait, so you weren’t eventryingto get here, and you still ended up here?” He looks extremely excited for some reason, which is probably bad.
“I guess so.” Theo’s whole demeanor softens, and he steps close to me, rubbing his hands over my shoulders and gripping me hard the second I try to pull away from him.
“Wow,” he says softly, smiling at me. “Listen, let me pick you up next time, okay? I don’t want you walking alone in the dark.” He loops a tight arm around my shoulders and guides me towards the steep, tree-lined driveway at the end of the road towards a massive, well-kept Victorian. All the lights are on, giving the house an inviting air that feels wrong given the circumstances. The property looks out over the town and river,and the lights from the houses and ships and the bridge twinkle softly beneath us.
It’s beautiful, and for just a minute, surprise washes away all of my fear.
“Dinner’s going to take a while,” he says apologetically as he leads me up the steps of the large wraparound porch before opening a front door with an ornate, leaded glass pane making up most of the center. The door opens into a narrow entryway with a living room on one side and a large staircase on the other, and Theo ushers me into the house, where I can hear soft French jazz drifting into the entryway from a brightly lit room down the hall.
Theo’s house has dark wood walls with cream wallpaper, leaded glass panes in all the doors and windows, and mid-century-style furniture that looks brand new and completely out of place with the house’s ornate wood paneling and picture rails and old-fashioned sconces. There are a few pieces of art, but they’re impersonal, as though they’re placeholders.
His house is spotless, but there are so few signs of life that it feels like it’s been staged.
He closes the door and locks it behind him, looking down at me with direct and overwhelming eye contact, and all my panic returns in an instant.
I’m in his house.
It’s just us here.
He’s going to kill me.
“Shoes off, please,” he says, slipping off his sneakers and placing them on a shoe rack by the door that I didn’t notice. I follow his instructions, placing my tennis shoes next to his, and he takes my hand and pulls me into the large kitchen at the end of the hall. It’s the most updated room in the house, with new appliances and a large island. It’s as clean as the rest ofthe house, but between the cookbooks and the phone charger, it looks more lived-in.
Theo pulls out a stool at the island, and I sit as he starts rummaging in the fridge.
“Do you like coq a vin?” I stare at him blankly. “Alex?”
