Page 10 of Shadowed Whispers

“No, no.” He pours his hot water in. “No take backs.”

Wiggling my nose, I rip my last packet of sugar open. “Perfect is subjective,” I say instead.

He leans down close to me, making me freeze. Usually, when people get into my space uninvited like this, I freeze up. My heart pounds, and sweat pools under my arms, but with Leo, I catch the scent of cedarwood, just like his namesake, and instead of feeling panic, I feel… safe, which is just as unsettling. I don’t feel safe with people. Ever.

“And I think you still believe I’m perfect,” he whispers just for me. His breath rolls over my skin, creating pleasurable goosebumps that race from my ear to my neck then across my chest. Ever so slowly, he backs up, an arrogant smirk on his face. With him out of my space, I exhale a shaky breath and glance at him from beneath my lashes.

“Arrogance suits you.” Again, he laughs. Me? I look away and put a lid on my coffee cup.

“You know, they say that if you drink your coffee black, you just might be a sociopath,” he observes.

I grab a banana and an apple as I head toward the cashier, rolling his words over in my head. “I take my coffee with sugar, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone called me crazy,” I mumble, not thinking he heard me.

He does, of course. “Ah, but Frankie, do you think you’re crazy?”

What an odd question. I don’t answer as I step up to the cashier. Crazy? Maybe. I do love to watch men die, but does that make me crazy?

No, I decide. They had it coming.

“Is this all?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Nope.” Leo grabs a handful of granola bars they always keep at the register just in case. “These, and it’s on me.”

The cashier rolls her eyes and begins to ring everything up.

“Thanks,” I say, sipping my coffee.

“It’s the least I could do for spilling your other cup.” He hands over his student identification card, freshly printed.

As she finishes ringing everything up and popping it all in a bag, which he hands to me, I think about his question again. For some reason, it just hits wrong. Do I think I’m crazy? No. I don’t. Not really, at least, aside from a little homicide.

I mean, come on, what’s a little homicide? Besides, those days are over. I’m reformed. Kind of. Maybe. Probably not.

“Don’t overthink it.” He bumps my shoulder gently, so he doesn’t cause me to spill my coffee again.

“Well, clearly I am going to overthink it now.” I roll my eyes, leading him around the cafeteria that is slowly getting louder.

“Leo!” a voice yells.

“Oh, hey, come meet the other rugby players.” Leo tries to tug me toward them.

“Yeah, no, that sounds like a lot more socializing than I signed up for today.” I pull away, and he lets me go.

“Shit, you were going to show me where the tower is.” He looks torn, glancing from me to the group of guys calling his name.

“Huge tower toward the back of the island. You can’t miss it.” I look over at the table full of jocks. Of course he plays rugby. It’s one of the only sports this school excels at. “Go. I have to shower and leave for work.” They are all barefoot. Well, that answers that question.

“You sure?” He looks down at me, a frown deepening the color of his eyes.

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you, Leo.” I take a step back, ready to bolt.

“Frankie,” he says in a lazy drawl, as though he has all the time in the world. I swallow because I want him to keep saying my name just like that—slow and deliberate, as though he is practicing moaning my name.

“Hmm?” I reply distractedly.

“You owe me that date.”

“Date?” Did he ask me out?

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