Page 102 of Dead Set on You
“Such a baby.”
Rafael stands rigidly. “I almost drowned on a fishing trip when I was thirteen.”
My smile slips. “Oh. I’m sorry.” I cringe inwardly at my idiot mouth. “We can go back.”
“No need. If you can be so brave about everything you’ve done these past few days, I can get this far into the water.” His tense shoulders tell another story. “You can’t be the only one getting over her fears.”
“I wouldn’t call it getting over my fears. It’s more like succumbing to them and hoping for the best.”
He chuckles, his hand very tentatively dragging through the water. “That’s very Evie of you.”
I snort. “Very Evie of me?”
“Taking everything—goals, plans, fears—dissecting them, taking them apart, and making them less indomitable than they actually are. It’s what you do. Your ambition is … infectious.” It’s not my body I want to cover but my face as a flush creeps up my neck. He continues, “It’s fascinating. Nothing seems like too big of a challenge.”
“Except for you,” I say. “Haven’t figured you out yet.”
His hands draw circles in the dark water. “I’m an open book.” With lots and lots of chapters.
“If you say so.” I slip deeper into the water, letting it come up to my neck, wishing it could cool my burning skin. Rafael follows suit, slowly submerging himself to my level. We’re close enough we could touch.
Behind us, the city glows and twinkles against a velvet black sky, the stars barely visible. If someone had told me I’d be crossing off bucket list item #72 with Rafael Vela, I would’ve laughed in their face and immediately gone to erase the ridiculous item from my list. That and #44.
We listen to the waves in silence, Rafael gradually relaxing beside me.
“Truth or dare?” I ask, surprising myself. And Rafael, whose eyes widen.
He pretends to think about it. “Truth.”
I consider all the questions I’ve collected in the last twenty-four hours. I consider the answer I want to know the most. The question comes easily. “What happened with Charlene?”
Amusement flickers, disrupting the intensity in his gaze. “Can I get a pass?”
“No,” I say. “The truth and nothing but the truth.”
His throat bobs. “I met her for the first time when I dropped off the files for the Dalton account a year ago.” He’d dropped them off because Dana had trusted no one else and I was out with a virus that had me feeling like I’d been chewed up and spit out. I opened the door with the hope it was highly contagious (it wasn’t). “We took the elevator together. She asked me out for coffee, and because she seemed like someone I’d enjoy having coffee with, I said yes.”
“You’ve been known to wear a person down.” I grin.
“I was a gentleman through and through.” He dips lower into the water. “She wanted something more than I could give her, so I didn’t pursue it.”
“Too serious for you?” I try to keep my tone light, even though I feel relief that it was never more. I’m a terrible person, I think.
“Not what I was looking for,” he says. A wave hits the side of his neck, drenching his hair. He pushes the hair from his face, slicking it back. A rivulet of water snakes down the side of his face, and I have the urge to wipe it away. Wishful thinking and all.
“Your turn, Pope. Truth or dare?” His eyes tell medare. I think about what I’d be willing to do in the middle of the night. About him daring me to take off the rest of my clothes (and me not completely hating him for it).
“Truth,” I croak.
“Coward.” His eyes glint, and I know I would’ve been right. I’ve playedWWRDplenty of times.
“Youtook the easy route first,” I say pointedly.
“I got into the water, didn’t I?”
“Ask before I change my mind.”
He turns thoughtful. “Why Stevie?”
