Page 25 of Love Sick

Isit the rumors? How worried should I be about this?

Kai hangs back as we head toward the parking lot, making eyes at the server, who eyes him right back. Guess it wasn’t me he was staring at…

Alesha kisses Kai’s cheek as she passes. “If you screw that guy and it goes south, we will still be eating here on the reg. Just so you know.”

He gives a distracted, “Yeah, okay,” and goes in for the kill.

In the parking lot, Raven hugs me goodbye. “Cheer up, love. It’ll all turn out fine.”

I nod and slip into my car, cranking the volume. Singing is unadulterated stress relief, so I scroll through my phone and decide on my Epic Trailer Version playlist. I’m in the mood for some drama.

A mile down the road, I spy Julian’s truck behind me in the rearview mirror. What’s he doing? Is he…following me?

No. Surely not.

But I hop on the highway and exit with him still behind me. What is happening right now? When I turn into my apartment complex, and he follows, a confused tangle of emotions settles in my chest, part exasperation, part exhilaration.

His black monstrosity of a truck pulls in beside me.

Frazzled, I gather my things and slam my car door, stomping to the front of his truck. “Why are you following me?”

He shuts his door with more reasonable force. It beeps as it locks. “What are you talking about? I thought you were following me.”

With a scoff, I point at his truck. “You werebehindme, Julian.”

“You sure?”

I grind my teeth. Audibly.

He flashes a smile at the ground and thumps his fist on his truck. “I wasn’t following you. I live here.”

“No. I live here.”

He glances over the entirety of the property around us, his face in eerie shadows cast by the streetlight overhead. “It’s an apartment complex. I think more than one person lives here.”

He can’t be serious. “You’ve lived here the whole time?” I ask.

He chews his gum, head cocked, scrutinizing me. “Yes,Sapphire. I’ve lived here for weeks.”

I gasp. “Does that mean it’s cursed?”

“Idefinitelycursed it.”

“I should probably move.” I spin and stride toward the stairs. But seriously. I can’t live in the same complex as him. What the heck?

“Would make my life more pleasant,” he mutters.

His footsteps follow me up the first flight, a not-unpleasant heat slipping down my spine as I imagine him inspecting my body.

“Did you know you have blood on your scrubs?” he asks.

I lurch to a stop at the landing, and he crashes into me. It knocks me forward into the handrail. He grabs it for balance, his other hand encircling my upper arm to steady me. For two full seconds, the length of his lean body presses against my back, and I learn the thin cotton of scrubs does nothing to hide the hardness of muscles or the heat of skin.

He isn’t large or brawny. I expected him to be a little soft, far less intimidating than the angular strength now tattooed into my memory.

He wrenches away. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

I turn, flushed from head to toe. “Yeah. Sorry.”

---