“Stop saying my name like that.”I hate it.
His eyebrows pulled together as his eyes bounced between mine, confused. “Like what?”
A small voice in the back of my head told me to shut up, but I ignored it.
“Like you own it.” I swallowed, my throat dry again. “Like it’s yours. Stop saying it like it belongs to you, like it belongs in your mouth.”
He didn’t respond.
“Stop.”
I hate it.
His eyes danced across my face for another few seconds before a cheeky smile started to tug the corners of his unwilling mouth.
“No,” he finally said.
I’m sorry?
I blinked back at him a few times, and his mischievous grin slowly spread.
“No?” I didn’t understand.
“No,” he said again, his voice quiet but firm.
“Why the hell not?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to figure that one out yourself,Amelia,”he teased.
Frustrated and loopy, I frowned and pouted, trying to think of an answer to the newly proposed riddle.
And then it happened again. His eyes dropped down to my lips, and his smile slightly waned. But, just like last time, it only lasted for a second before he looked away and his expression reverted back to neutral.
My head was spinning so much at this point that I couldn’t even think about starting to analyze it.
“You should head upstairs now. It’s late.” He dropped his arms from where they were holding on to me and put his hands in his pockets, taking a full step back.
The night air felt cooler than I remembered it.
I was in no state to argue. Plus, the mental image of my bed that appeared as soon as he mentioned going inside made me realize how tired and sleepy I was.
The sudden feeling of fatigue hit me so hard that I felt like I could curl up and take a nap right then and there on the concrete.
So why don’t I want to leave?
“Okay. Thank you for driving me home.” I sloppily bent down and took off my shoes, knowing I’d face-plant if I tried walking with a broken heel in my current state. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Monday.” He nodded.
“Okay… bye,” I said and gave a small smile and left, looking back once to see him watching me walk inside.
The wait and elevator ride up to my apartment were the longest three minutes of my entire life as my body started to shut down. I threw my heels to the side as soon as I was in the door and made my way to the bedroom, falling right onto the covers with my coat still on.
Noticing something hard uncomfortably digging into my stomach, I reached into my pocket and took out my phone. There was a message waiting for me.
I huffed out a little laugh, recognizing the nickname seventeen-year-old Milly had given Zac in her phone after he’d fired her.
El Diablo