Page 116 of Dead Set on You
My insides set afire, I turn to him, digging my fingers into my clutch to keep them from shaking.
Rafael is within touching distance, one elbow leaning against the bar, the other hand at his side. He’s dressed sharply—dress pants and a dark navy shirt rolled up to his elbows. Unlike the last time I saw him, his hair’s trimmed, but he’s kept his facial hair.
I want to feel it. Feel him.
“Are you okay?” He leans in, his nearness a magnetic pull I have to resist. His familiar eyes scan me, hypnotize me, and make me forget words.
“Um. Yes,” I say, my voice a croak. “Really great.” I smile too wide, because he frowns.
“Are you sure you’re supposed to be out?” His question stops me from burying my face in his chest. “I’m glad you’re here, but should you be?”
He’s looking at me like we’re the only two people here. Thoughts become obsolete. I should be saying all the things I came here to say, but all I want to do is touch him. My fingers zap with the urge.
I lean into him, as if tugged nearer by an invisible thread. “Yes,” I respond, sounding a little too breathless to prove I’m indeed okay. “Don’t listen to Gemma.”
“Never.” Rafael smiles, a shadow of The Dimple in his cheek. Everything about him is so heartachingly familiar. I want to thread my fingers into his hair and pull his face to mine. I want to press my lips to his and finally see what he tastes like.
The music’s beat changes, and its erratic thumping transfers to my chest. My heart shimmies.
“You … forgot your pen.” I dig into my clutch, holding up a pen from the day of Doug’s séance.
Rafael looks at me with concern as he takes it. His fingers brush against mine, sending a jolt through me, and I wish I had more pens to give him. “E—”
“Can we talk?” The words rush out without preamble. No number of pens is going to do what I came here to do. He looks past me for a second, and I immediately regret asking, because he’s going to say no. He’s going to send me away. He’s going to—
Rafael jerks his head to the back of the bar. “Come on.” His hand drops to his side, and I feel the insane urge to take it and hold on to it as he cuts a path through the throng of people. Others shake his hand or touch him without a second thought, but for me, it’s all I can think about. I dig my nails into my palm.
Gemma catches my gaze. Her face furrows with a question as she begins to pull away from her table. I shake my head, mouthingstay, when I should be begging her to come save me from doing something stupid. The crease in her usually smooth forehead deepens, like she can see my nerves beneath the surface, but she listens and halts. And I follow the man I cannot touch.
Always a sliver of space between us, we squeeze through the crowd around the bar and past the DJ booth into a hallway,where it’s darker and cooler. Yet somehow my temperature spikes.
Rafael slows in front of the room with thePRIVATEsign and turns to me, his face inscrutable as he opens the door, pushing into it with a shoulder.
“After you,” he says, waiting for me to pass.
Taking a deep and not-at-all-helpful breath, I do the bravest thing I’ve done since waking up and enter.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURA MONTH SINCE THE ACCIDENT (THE HARDER PART)
I don’t know what I’m doing.
It’s all I can think as I step into the room, which feels much, much smaller and more furnished than the last time we were in here. Between the desk, chair, two-person sofa, andhim, it feels too snug. Another frisson of heat licks down and up and everywhere, scorching as it goes. I press my thighs together.
My back to the desk, I face Rafael, who leans against the door. Muffled music thumps from the other side, mirroring a lot of the thumping happening in my chest.
I can do this.
I’m Evie Pope.
“Nice party,” I say, a slight hitch to my voice. “It’s really nice.” I inwardly cringe.Nice?
Rafael’s lips quirk to one side. “Thanks, though it’s mostly Lupe’s doing.”
“That’s what she said about you.”
“She thinks too highly of me, and she shouldn’t. I’m sure you can agree with the sentiment.”
It takes a second for his words to sink in. This is the moment when Pre-Coma Evie would have said something harsh and biting. When I would have said the opposite of what comes out of my mouth. “I don’t agree with that sentiment at all. In fact, that’s why I’m here.”
