Page 66 of Midnights
Me: We don’t have time to unpack those control issues, sir.
We’re headed out for the night, so that might have to wait for another day. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll survive.
Kane: You’re right,
‘Tour Guide Kane’ is exhausted after working so hard today.
Me: You can’t be that tired… you didn’t even finish the itinerary we paid good money for.
We were promised a castle.
Kane: Does the Princess always get what she wants?
Me: Usually.
Kane: Noted
Kane: Don’t worry, I always keep my promises.
Me: Just keep your weird food away from me, and we’ll be fine.
Kane: Can’t make any promises about that. I like them sweaty, remember?
Me: UGH, you’re impossible…
Kane: Don’t forget charming!
I'm clutching my phone, still grinning like an idiot when Rachel walks back into the room, raising her eyebrows.
“What did he say?”
I read her the messages between giggles, and her eyes widen. By the time I finish, she’s shaking her head, and her lips are twitching.
“He’s a deranged weirdo,” She laughs. “But, like… kinda charming in a messed-up way.”
I shake my head, still smiling. “Yeah, well, I'm not falling for it.” I pause. “Still funny, though.”
Rachel disappears into the closet. “Mmm-hmm. Keep telling yourself that. Now, get your ass up. We’re going out.”
I sit up, reaching for the shoes I never put on. What even was that conversation? I'll admit, he is funny, in an infuriating sort of way.
Rachel walks past me toward the door, grabbing her phone off the table. “Are you ready? Waiting on you.”
“I’m coming!” I grab my phone and follow after her.
I pause, glancing toward the couch. “You know, we could just stayyy.” I drag the word out dramatically, attempting to lure her back inside. “Sit on the porch, have some wine, talk about life. Youlovethat kind of stuff.”
Rachel stops mid-step and levels me with a look. “Bitch, we are going out. Let's go!”
I groan but let her drag me toward the door. As we step outside, I punch in the code to lock it, only to hear a sharp beep of rejection.
I frown. “That’s weird.”
Rachel crosses her arms, unimpressed. “It’s six numbers. What’s the hold up?”
“Fine,” I huff, stepping aside. “Go ahead, Einstein.”
Chapter 11
