Chapter 2 #2
“Noah.” She hisses my name like I’m the bane of her existence. Understandable. “I will mutilate you if you lay a finger on Summer. I watch a lot of true crime. A lot. I know how to dispose of a body, and I know how to make your death look like an accident. Even if it’s long and torturous.”
Summer attempts to hide a giggle behind her hand, and I bite back my own chuckle, even if Hazel’s threat does scare me a little.
In any other circumstance, I’d ask Hazel if she’s single.
Killian would love her. His type is fiery, bold, and a little unhinged.
“As you should. Trust me, I’m drunk and an idiot, but I’m harmless. ”
“You better be because I’m not. Summer?”
“Yeah?”
Before Summer can take Hazel off speaker, she blurts, “Is he hot?”
My cheeks warm as Summer glances at me for a split second. “You’re still on speaker.”
Not a confirmation, but she doesn’t deny it either. Maybe I stand a chance.
Who am I kidding? We just met, and I’ve already traumatized her. She’s the last woman in the world who would ever give me a shot.
Hazel huffs out an exasperated sigh. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Okay, Hazel, I’m hanging up now. I’m fine, Noah is leaving, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“You better, or Noah’s dead.”
I believe that.
Once Summer hangs up, a silence falls over us that’s somehow comfortable. I twist the half-full glass of water in my hands, condensation welcome on my warm palms. “Would you like me to wait here until the police arrive?”
Even if my crime was accidental, she has every right to have me arrested.
Summer considers my proposal, her warm, steady gaze and slightly pursed lips creating a real problem in my pants now.
“You seem like you’ve already had a pretty rough night between entering the wrong apartment and puking your guts up all over my bathroom, so I’ll skip adding an arrest to your day. ”
“That’s . . . very generous of you.” Far more generous than I deserve.
She studies me, and I shift under her scrutiny.
What I wouldn’t give to read her mind. To know if she finds me anywhere near as attractive as I find her.
If she can look past the messy hair and whiskey breath.
“So tell me, Noah. How often do you get blackout drunk and stumble into the wrong apartment?”
I groan and lean back against the couch. So soft and welcoming. “This would be the first time.”
“Who is she?”
“What?”
Summer quirks a brow like she’s not buying me playing dumb. She doesn’t know yet that I don’t have to play at all. “The woman you were drinking to forget tonight.”
“Why do you think I was drinking over a woman?” I was. Sort of. Not exactly how she’s probably thinking. Not in a mournful or wistful kind of way. More like a thank-god-that’s-over way.
“Because I know men.” She kicks off her heels and folds her legs beneath her, relaxing back into her couch like we’re old friends catching up.
Somehow, her comfort puts me at ease too.
“You went out tonight with the intent to get blackout drunk, and there was a reason. So what was it? A breakup? Job loss? Shitty boss? Spill.” When I hesitate, she adds, “You did break into my apartment, so I deserve to know.”
Can’t argue with that logic. If she demanded that I get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness, I’d do it. “A breakup. I’m glad it’s over, but it kind of upturned my whole life.”
She nods like she somehow knew that’s exactly what I was going to tell her. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” I take another gulp of water. The hydration is helping a little, but I can already tell the hangover tomorrow is going to be a rough one. I nod at her dress, careful not to let my gaze linger too long. “I’m guessing you were having a pretty good night up until about ten minutes ago?”
Summer lets out a short laugh. “Not exactly. I was working.”
“Really? Where do you work with a uniform like that?” I mentally kick myself as soon as the words leave my mouth, but relief floods through me when a small, bashful smile tugs at her lips.
“It’s kind of a weird job. I work for this app called Plus One. I’m a fake girlfriend, basically. Clients hire me to go on a date with them or to a wedding or some other event where they want a companion or when they want to convince someone that they’re in a relationship.”
I’ve never heard of a job like that, but it definitely sounds interesting. “Wow. What’s that like?”
“It’s disturbing how many men are looking for a date with a woman who’s nice and quiet, which translates to shut your mouth and look pretty.
” Her mouth briefly sours before she brightens again.
“But otherwise, it’s usually fun and pays well.
Sometimes, men just want someone to talk to, but usually they’re trying to be petty. ”
I straighten, interest piqued. “Ooh, juicy. Tell me more.”
Summer leans closer, smile blooming like she’s got all kinds of stories to share. “Once, a man hired me to pretend to be his girlfriend at his ex’s wedding to his former best friend.”
My alcohol-addled brain performs painful mental gymnastics to try to process what she just said. “His ex and his former best friend. Why was he even invited?”
“I guess they kept in touch. She cheated on him, but after he broke it off with her, she still wanted to be friends. I told him she was just seeking validation. She wanted to spend her life with another man, but she also wanted him to stay hung up on her forever. We went to the wedding, killed it on the dance floor, and the next day, she called him crying about how much she missed him and that her new marriage was a mistake.”
I cringe. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was. But he stayed away, and he texted me an update a few weeks ago that he met someone new. Apparently, she’s a much better match for him than his ex ever was.”
“I love a happy ending.”
“You’re a sap, aren’t you? I can tell.” Her warm brown eyes are bright, vibrant, and for a brief moment, I wonder if she feels the same pull between us that I do.
“I’m also drunk. But yes, I’m a sap. Every sad commercial about an animal shelter works on me—I cry and send money.”
Summer laughs, and it’s the most magical sound I’ve ever heard.
“I probably shouldn’t be admitting all of my darkest secrets to you.” I set the near-empty glass of water on her coffee table. I’ve damn well overstayed my welcome. Time to go pound on Aries’s door and blow up his phone until he lets me in.
“I did have a few margaritas tonight, so I probably won’t remember, if that helps.”
“I definitely won’t remember any of this tomorrow, so if I forget to show up in the morning, just knock on 2C until some tall guy with dark hair answers. He’ll probably look grumpy, but he’s harmless. Especially to a woman who isn’t afraid of intruders.”
Summer beams. The right thing to say. Damn, I’m smooth when I’m wasted. Why can’t I channel this charm when I’m sober?
She leans closer, giving me a mouthwatering view of that cleavage as her neckline pools lower. My cock twitches in my pants again, and I bend forward to conceal it. No way in hell she won’t stab me with that knife if she spots the evidence of what her body does to me.
“Since you won’t remember this tomorrow, I’m going to confess something to you I’ve never told anyone. Not even Hazel or my hedgehog.”
“You have a hedgehog?”
She nods. “Prick.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
Summer takes a deep breath, eyes darting around like someone might overhear us, and for the first time, I realize that she’s pretty drunk too. “I secretly fantasize about . . .”
Oh god, I need her to finish that sentence. I need to know everything she fantasizes about.
“. . . someone stalking me.”
My brows shoot up to my hairline. “Oh, shit. Really?”
Instantly, I wish I could bite the words back as regret dampens her enthusiasm.
She pulls away, the cloud of sweet perfume going with her, and disappointment sinks low in my gut.
“Not like violent, deranged stalking. More like . . . unwavering devotion. Like, consensual stalking. He knows that’s what I want, and he does it.
He tracks me not to control me but to make sure I’m safe.
He sends me random gifts to let me know he’s always thinking of me.
He breaks into my apartment to let me know he’s dangerous, but only to anyone who would want to hurt me.
He’d do anything to prove he wants to protect me, to make me happy.
He’s not trying to kill me. Just make sure I don’t forget how much I mean to him. ”
“Huh. That actually makes sense.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You want a guy whose whole world revolves around you. You want to be on his mind, all the time. Every second of every day, he’s thinking about you. Thinking about how he can make you happy. How he can be the man you dream of.”
She blinks those round brown eyes at me, stunned. “That’s . . . exactly it.”
A ringtone pierces the ensuing silence between us, but this time, it’s my phone. Aries. When I swipe my thumb across the screen, his voice comes out gravelly and drowsy. “Hey, man. I just saw your texts. Where are you? Hope you didn’t get kidnapped on your way here.”
“Nope. Not currently trapped in anyone’s basement or trunk. But I did accidentally break into someone’s apartment.”
“You what?” Aries barks, fully awake now. “Tell me I don’t have to bail your ass out of jail.”
“Nope. Long story.” I glance at Summer, who’s yawning as her eyelids droop. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
When I hang up, Summer is already standing. She hasn’t discarded the knife, and I’m torn between hugging her and keeping my distance. I rub the back of my neck. “So. Thank you for not pressing charges. Or stabbing me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Let me give you my number. Then you can text me if I forget to show up tomorrow morning, which I probably will. I’ll be passed out until noon, so text me whenever you want me to come back to clean the bathroom and fix the door.”
She hesitates for a moment, but then she pulls out her phone and puts my number in her contacts. “I’ll text you.”
When Summer heads for the door and props it open for me, I stand and manage to stay on my feet.
But I keep a hand on the wall to make sure I don’t take a tumble, hit my head, and fall unconscious in her apartment.
After all I’ve put her through, she does not need a medical emergency on her hands tonight too.
I step out into the night air, brisk and sobering long after the early spring sun has disappeared.
What the hell do you say to the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever met after you break into her apartment and puke all over her bathroom?
“So I’ll . . . see you tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Summer. ”
“It was . . . memorable meeting you, Noah.” With an impossibly kind smile, she shuts the door in my face.
Memorable. Not nice, but at least I’m not ending the night in an ambulance or handcuffs.