Page 46 of Crossing Lines

“—and you hate that I’m right.” He nudges my plate toward me.

“You’re brave to give me a weapon like a plate at a time like this.”

“Out of the two of us, I think we know my skills in self-defense are far superior to yours.”

“Did I mention arrogant, too?” I huff. “You know, not all women like an alpha male.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Ugh. Why does he have to say it like that? All sexy and smooth, like he can detect all the bullshit I throw his way. I pick up my fork and eat the food, because it’s too delicious to waste.

“Why are you so scared?” he asks.

“I’m not scared,” I lie. “Maybe I’m just tired of a dinner that turned into a lecture.”

His jaw clenches. “I’m just trying to have a conversation with you.”

“About things I don’t want to talk about.”

“Other people may let you run and hide when things get tough, but that’s not me. I’m sorry for caring, for wanting to get to know the real you.”

“No one asked that from you,” I say.

“No one had to.”

“Why do you care? Why do you want to know the real me?”

“Those questions,” he says, “are the same ones I’ve been asking myself every single second since I’ve met you. I’ll let you know when I have an answer.”

I blink at him in shock as his phone rings. He glances at the screen and sighs. “I’m sorry, but I need to take this. Just leave everything on the table when you’re done, and I’ll pack it away.”

I’m left gaping at him as he excuses himself, walks down the hall and up the stairs. I’m still in a state of shock as I shakily wash my plate and put the leftovers away. I’m still mulling over his words, and the implications, while I walk to the pool house.

And it’s all still there, rolling around in my head nonstop while I lie in bed.

The truth is, I care about him, too.

And no matter how much I wish it were different, at the end of the day, we’re a dead end.

“Nina,” Zeki singsongs from the door to the pool house the next evening.

“What do you want?” I come outside and join him on the patio.

“It’s movie night, and you’re joining.”

“And what if I’m busy?”

“Easy, become unbusy.”

I chuckle. “And where are you having this movie night? We don’t even have couches in the house, or a TV.”

“I brought some beanbag chairs and a TV.”

“Now this, I have to see.”

We walk into the main house and into the living room and find a massive TV that wasn’t there this morning, three beanbag chairs in various shades of green that remind me of vomit, and…Evren. Evren who’s sitting demurely on his vomit-green beanbag while wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. Evren who I’ve been avoiding since last night, after he admitted to caring about me.

I don’t know what to do with that information, or the realization that I like him. So avoidance is the best course of action. Or it was until Zeki brought me to movie night. Zeki jumps onto his beanbag, leaving me the one that’s closest to Evren. I glare at Zeki, blaming him for the seating situation, and he just grins and stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

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