Chapter 14 Reid #2
“Shit,” I hissed, tearing my gaze away.
“What?” West looked up from his phone where he’d been typing a message.
I jerked my head backward, toward the guy. “That’s the guy,” I whispered.
West glanced at him and then back at me. “You’re going to have to give me more details than that.”
“Hazel’s ex,” I whispered. I’d already filled him in on the catfishing plan.
West looked again and snorted softly. “That guy? He’s a total meathead.”
“Shh.”
He scrunched his forehead. “Relax. He has no idea who we are.”
West was right. Even though I had examined every nook and cranny of his social media and online presence, Paul had no idea who the hell I was. He would likely be deeply disturbed if he knew I was the mind behind the girl who had slid into his DMs.
West’s eyes went wide. “Wait, is that why you wanted to try out this stupid gym? To run into him?”
“Shhh.” I gave him a warning glare before picking up my phone and sneaking a quick picture before shooting it to Hazel. I knew she was at work, so I wasn’t expecting her to answer right away, but a response came in immediately.
Hazel: Omg! That’s Paul.
Hazel: Feel free to not help him when that weight inevitably gets stuck on his chest. I’ve heard being crushed to death by your own ego is a brutal way to go.
Her words made me smile as I shot back a quick reply and stuffed my phone back into my pocket.
“You going to say something?” West asked, not bothering to be subtle in his stare at Paul.
“What? Why would I say something?” I asked, appalled at the idea.
“Isn’t that why you dragged us here in the first place? Investigate your top suspect?”
“No,” I said, although hadn’t I done that? Because if I wasn’t here to investigate Paul as a suspect, why the hell was I so curious about Hazel’s ex? The thought made me cringe.
“You should get a read on the guy,” West said.
“‘Cat thief’ isn’t exactly something easily readable.” I squinted at Paul, taking the chance to size him up while he was distracted. He looked…very into himself. His shirt was cut so low it was practically a vest, leaving half his chest and one entire arm on full display.
My chest heated. I wanted to judge the hell out of him.
Really, I did. But if I was being honest?
What I actually felt was…jealousy, maybe?
Was that what this was? A tiny, embarrassing flicker of envy?
Maybe West was right. Maybe I did need to get out more if a girl showing me just an inkling of friendship was enough to trigger this kind of insecure, high-school-level spiral.
West leaned against the weight rack. “You need to take a profiling class or something.”
“My profiling senses are already telling me that could be the guy. I don’t need to speak to him to get a better idea.”
To my horror—but not to my surprise—West ignored me and called out, “Hey man, nice set.”
Two benches over, Paul put his bar back on the rack, his entire body beet red from the effort.
“Thanks,” he grunted.
“Stop,” I whispered. What was it with people and being so eager to confront suspects?
First Hazel and her old boss, and now this?
I mean, I knew it was technically my fault we were running into Paul in the first place, but I at least had the instinct to lay low.
Sometimes I wished my online friends were here in real life, because I could guarantee both of them would be a hell of a lot subtler.
West continued to ignore me and smiled at Paul. “What was that, like three hundred?”
“Three fifteen,” Paul said, still barely acknowledging us before putting his headphones back in.
“Friendly guy,” West whispered before taking my spot on the bench.
“Was that necessary?” I asked, shooting daggers at my friend.
West laid down and gripped the bar. “I think you can take him.”
“His biceps are the size of my head,” I said, unenthused.
West smiled up at me. “You’ve got at least half a foot on him. And you’re no slouch. We just need to work on your confrontation skills.”
“Everyone around me is confrontational enough,” I muttered, spotting him as he lifted the bar off the bench.
My eyes kept wandering back to Paul. Another guy had joined him.
Shorter, slightly less meaty. Caleb, maybe?
I recognized him from an old, blurry picture with Hazel and Paul.
Man, I could not picture her hanging out with these guys.
What had Hazel seen in him? She’d really dated him for years?
Lived with him? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
Hazel was all warmth and chaos, bubbly, eccentric, impossible to ignore.
And this guy? He gave off the vibe of a damp dishrag.
Okay, maybe that was harsh. But come on.
There was no way this guy could hold an actual conversation, right?
The more I thought about them together, the worse that small knot of jealousy in my chest became. My knuckles went white around the bar as I stepped in to help West rack the weight, letting the strain ground me.
As much as I didn’t want West to be right, he was.
There wasn’t nothing between Hazel and me.
In fact, there was most definitely something.
At least on my end. Was that inappropriate?
I was letting her stay in my house to avoid some creep, and here I was developing a crush on her.
But I couldn’t lie to myself. She had been taking up a lot of space in my mind lately, and it wasn’t because of the cat case.
It was because of her. She was unlike anyone I’d ever met.
On paper, I shouldn’t be able to stand her.
She represented everything I thought I didn’t like.
Messy, unorganized, flighty, unpredictable, financially irresponsible.
And yet…
There she was.
The girl who was stronger than she appeared.
The girl I’d stayed up with multiple nights in a row, quoting cheesy movies.
The girl I wanted to protect and shelter, to rescue from the shitty position she was currently in.
The girl I was excited to get back home to.