Page 67 of Captured Love

This is why I shouldn’t have lowered my window.

“I’m not pretending anything,” I say, forcing my voice to stay level. “But whatever you’re trying to do? Cut it out. We have nothing to say to each other.”

“Fine,” she mutters. “Whatever, you say, Knox.”

Before I can respond, she spins on her heel and walks away. I watch her disappear around the corner of the building before leaning back against the headrest.

What the hell was that? And how did she know I was here?

It’s not like it matters now because she already achieved one of her goals: seeing me. I rub the back of my neck and try to stop thinking about Tessa. The whole interaction leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but there’s not much I can do about it now.

I glance at my phone still sitting in the cupholder, the earlier texts from Selene and Willow staring back at me. My thumb hovers over Willow’s message, but my mind shifts to something else entirely—something I have no business thinking about right now.

What if I invite Selene to Mamita’s birthday party?

The idea is insane. I know it. Selene and I aren’t even solid yet and bringing her into the hurricane that is my family could either solidify us or completely tear us apart. But if I don’t invite her, I’ll be gone for the whole weekend, right when things are starting to click.

My phone slips out of my hand and onto my lap. I pick it up and find the text messages that Selene and I have sent to each other. The thought of inviting her still feels reckless, but why does it sound like such a good idea at the same time?

Since I need to get to class, I flip back to the texts that my sister and I have shared with one another and hastily type out a message to her.

Me: I’ll let you know later this week.

With that still lingering on my mind, I put my phone in my cupholder and pull out of the parking lot.

25

SELENE

As I pull up to Knox’s house, I see the front door swing open. It’s as if he was waiting by the window for me to arrive. I turn off my car and pop the trunk as Knox walks down the stairs of his front porch to approach my vehicle. I step out and greet him with a grin.

“Is everything back here?” he asks, gesturing to my car.

“Yes, it is. I might have gone slightly overboard, but I wasn’t sure what you guys had and didn’t have.”

Knox shakes as he leans into the trunk, surveying the mountain of grocery bags as I walk to the trunk.

“We’ve got salt, pepper, and beer,” he says, lifting a bag to test its weight. “Maybe some expired ketchup.”

I swat at his arm playfully. “Ridiculous. A well-stocked kitchen is essential for culinary success. You are in the hands of a professional here.”

“I’m sure I am, picosita,” he says, and I don’t hear an ounce of sarcasm in his words.

I feel my cheeks grow warm at the nickname he’s given me. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you. What does that mean?”

“It means spicy.”

My hand lands on my chest before I point at my hair. “Is it because I’m a redhead?”

“No, it is because of our banter, but the hair color is the cherry on top.”

I swat at him again and all he does is laugh as he takes the groceries into his place.

I follow Knox up the steps of his porch and through the front door, taking in the familiar sight of his living room. We continue down the hallway until we reach the kitchen. He sets the bags on the counter and turns back to me for further instructions.

We both start to unpack the groceries, pulling out fresh vegetables, various types of cheese, and an assortment of spices. Knox watches me with mild curiosity as I organize everything.

“So what are we making?” he asks.

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