Page 10 of Her Nightshade

I’ll try, but it’s hard to sleep when all I can think about is you. Sweet dreams, mi diosa.

I’m sorry. That’s too much, I know. Can’t wait to see you again.

As much as his words should have worried me, they didn’t. Because I couldn’t wait to see him again either.

Mierda.

* * *

I woke up late, allowing myself some much-needed rest. When I checked my phone to see if I’d missed anything, I was surprised by the disappointment that washed over me; Charlie hadn’t texted me again.

Maybe I should text him.No, why would I text him?As much as I thought about him, I was certain he was doing exactly the same. Was he trying to give me space? Was he offended that I didn’t text him back last night? Why was I overthinking everything so much?Why do I care so much? Why am I letting his attention—or the lack of it—get to me?

Before I could stop myself, I pulled up Instagram, already embarrassed at myself. I hadn’t done this before, hadn’t ridiculously stalked a guy’s profile like some teenager, but something compelled me to check his today.

I instantly found him and, of course, he was already following me. His latest story was from several hours ago, a photo of a half-empty glass of wine in his loft.Myglass, marked with my deep red lipstick.

And below it, in white letters, the words:Still thinking about you.

My heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t mentioned me by name, but he didn’t need to. I stared at the story for a moment, my heart pounding. It was subtle enough for his followers to wonder, but I knew it was for me. It was his way of reaching out without directly saying anything.

Why didn’t he just text me?I locked my phone, trying to shake off the anxiety creeping in.Why am I letting this consume me?

I had always been independent, in control of how I felt, never needing someone else’s attention to validate me. But now, with Charlie, it felt different. The intensity, the way he quietly hinted at me—it was pulling me in. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give in or push away.

I dragged myself out of bed, determined to shake off whatever hold this had on me. A hot shower would help clear my head. I needed to focus on something else,anythingelse.

Just as I stepped into the bathroom, my phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen—Sloane.

“Hola, mija. ¿Que pasa?” I answered, hoping my voice didn’t give away how anxious I felt.

“Okay, Mom, I just have one question.” Her voice was playful, but I could already sense where this was going.

“Just one? That’s not like you,” I teased, pretending I wasn’t panicking inside.

“Whose red lipstick is on that glass of wine in Charlie Ashford’s story?”

My stomach dropped slightly. I hadn’t even thought of Sloane being a little sleuth, trying to find clues about my, or his, night via social media. But she was smart.Toosmart, like always.

“What are you talking about?” I asked casually.

She laughed. “Come on, Mom. The caption? The red lipstick that is the exact same shade you wear constantly? Right after he asked for your number?” Her voice was teasing, but she knew.

I sighed, half-amused. “Sloane, it’s nothing. Don’t read into it.”

She scoffed. “So, are you telling me it’s not yours? You’re gonna lie to your only child?” She was still teasing, but I wanted nothing more than for this call to be over.

I laughed. “I’m telling you it’s nothing.”

She let out an exaggerated groan. “Fine. Keep your secrets,” she said playfully. “But if this turns into something, I better be the first to know.”

“Bye, Sloane.Te amo,” I said, smiling as I hung up.

As soon as the call ended, I exhaled, relieved to be free of her questions. I wasn’t ready to answer anything about Charlie. I wasn’t even surehowI felt about him. His intensity, his texts, his sneaky story, the way he seemed to occupy my mind even when I tried to push him out—it was all too much.

I stepped onto the terrace with my coffee, letting the cool air wash over me, hoping it would clear my head. But just as I finally started to relax, my phone buzzed again, this time with a text. I glanced down—Charlie.

Good morning. I can’t stop thinking about you. I hope you slept well. When can I see you again?

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