Page 163 of The Night Shift
His confusion mirrors mine. “Do you not want to eat? Is the food bad?” His gaze flicks over his shoulder to the half-eaten bell pepper. “Fuck, it’s bad, isn’t it?” He starts to get up, and I react without thinking — my hand presses against his thigh, pushing him back down.
The movement is instinctual. Thoughtless. But the second my palm makes contact, everything slows.
My fingers curl slightly against the fabric of his pants, feeling the warmth of his leg underneath. His muscles tense beneath my touch.
Our eyes drop to where my hand is still resting.
Heat crawls up my neck, and I yank my hand back like I’ve been burned.
“No,” I say quickly, straightening in my seat. “The food is…it’s fine.” A pause. Realization starts to settle, creeping in slowly and inevitably. OhGod.
There’s no way.
There isnofucking way.
“Am I —” The words get stuck in my throat for a second before I force them out. “Is this afucking date?”
Theo’s eyebrows shoot up. His mouth opens and closes like a fish trying to form words. “What? No. Of course not.” A beat passes. His voice quietens. “I mean, unless…do youwantit to be?”
“No!” I blurt, reaching for my wine and taking a long, burning sip. Why does my face feel so hot?
Theo nods, clearing his throat. “Right. Then it’s not. It’s just dinner. Not a date.”
“I can’t believe I came all the way here for this bullshit.”
“You live exactly twenty minutes away. And I wouldn’t call mycharmingcompany bullshit. There are at least eight nurses at the hospital who woulddieto have dinner with me.”
“One, we’re not having dinner, we’re having cheap wine —”
“It’s not cheap.”
“— and two, maybe those nurses should just die then.”
Theo laughs, bright and sudden.
I smile. Then immediately stop. Ew, what the fuck?
He notices. His grin lingers, just slightly. He kicks my foot. “We could talk if you want.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Well, I guess your stalker problem is solved now, huh? Apart from me, of course. But for now, let’s focus on the inferior lot.”
I guess that’s true. Not about Theo being the superior stalker. He’s a fucking clown is what he is.
But the other part. There haven’t been any messages today. Nothing yesterday either. And Theo hasn’t gotten any, which means Nate was exactly who we thought he was.
And now he’s dead.
I think about that and how it felt. I think I expected something more. Some deep, soul-level satisfaction. But nothing. Just the usual high and rush that comes with a kill. Itwas good, sure, but it didn’t fix anything. Didn’t fill the space it was supposed to.
My eyes flick to Theo’s injured arm, to the way his fingers curl slightly against the edge of the sling. I take a slow sip of wine, letting the warmth settle in my chest.
I’m glad I killed Nate.
“Is it weird that it’s over?” Theo asks.
“Weirder than me sitting on your couch drinking wine?”
