Page 47 of Devil's Bargain

He puts it back and reaches for another photograph. This one is of me at Halloween with Nina. We were ten years old and dressed up like Ninja Turtles.

He chuckles. “Raphael?”

I gasp in mock horror, placing my hand over my chest. “You don’t know your Ninja Turtles?

A slow, amused smile spreads over his face. “Are you disappointed?”

“Very!” I point to my younger self in the photograph. “I was Donatello. See the purple bandana? That’s how you tell them apart. Nina”—I point to my best friend—“she was Leonardo.”

His eyes are on me, but I ignore how his attention makes me feel as I place the photograph back and reach for another one. “The year after, we dressed up as characters from Sailor Moon. But neither of us was allowed to dress as Sailor Moon herself, so I was Sailor Mars, and Nina was Sailor Saturn.”

“I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about?”

His gaze warms my skin. I put the photograph back. “If you’re not careful, I’ll force you to watch it with me one day.”

“Why wait?”

Laughter bubbles out of me as I look at him. “You can’t be serious?”

He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. The motion draws my eyes to his wide shoulders. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“Well…” At a loss for words, I gesture to him and blurt, “You’re so big!” The moment it’s out, I cringe.

He laughs. “I can’t watch girls’ shows because I’m big?”

I cross my arms and quirk an arched brow. “Girls’ shows?”

He’s amused. “Isn’t that what you meant when you told me I can’t watch it because of my size.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Yeah?”

“Fine! Do you want to watch it? Let’s watch it!” I drag him by the arm to the back of the house where my small bedroom is situated. He closes the door behind us while I make a beeline for my wooden bookcase and run my fingers over the titles until I find my Sailor Moon DVD.

When I turn around, he’s looking through the books on my bedside table. “Lover of romance?” he teases.

“In books, yes. In real life, no.”

He swaggers over. “No? Why’s that?”

I shrug and reach for the remote control at the bottom of my bed. “My experience with men in real life is shit.”

“Ouch! You don’t mince your words.”

I take a seat on the bed and scoot back. “Do you want me to lie?”

He removes his letterman jacket and hangs it over the chair by my desk. “No, I want honesty.”

My throat is suddenly dry, so I clear it and pat the space next to me. Only when he takes a seat next to me do I realize how intimate this moment is. “How about you? Lover of romance?”

He chuckles deeply and rolls his head on the back wall. His eyes flick between mine. “I have no experience with it.”

I furrow my brows. “Sure you do. You were with Emily for two years.”

He averts his gaze. It’s a difficult topic for him. “Emily and I care about each other, but we were never in love.”

“You were friends who fucked?”

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