Page 8 of Carnal Games

Shyness sinks in and I glance away at his compliment. I have to commend his confidence, which is an attractive quality to have in any man. Too bad my pulse doesn’t pound the same way as it does for Mr. Severe.

“You’re being nice, which I appreciate.”

He waits until I meet his gaze. “I haven’t been in a situation like yours. So, all I’m going to say is that if it’s meant to be, you’ll find your way back to him. Just make sure to not hide in the shadows and take a chance.”

He says it with so much conviction that I actually believe him.

Just like luck isn’t a permanent fixture, destiny is also known for putting people in your life for a reason. Perhaps one day I’ll know why Mr. Severe was in mine.

I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t solve a mystery.

“You must’ve been a saint in your past life,” I tease. “You’re so full of wisdom.”

He chuckles and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees while keeping his head tilted my way. “I’m far from a saint, trust me.”

“If you say so. Because you also said you’re a good listener and you are quite a good one. I needed that. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Well, I should go.”

He eyes my bags full of snacks. “Yeah… I’m keeping you from your slumber party.”

“More like a party of one.” I laugh and stand up.

He follows suit, pushing his hands in his jean pockets. “It was nice talking to you, crazy girl.”

“Likewise.”

We walk back the way we came. Right in front of the store, I see a shiny royal blue Mercedes parked. I stop when he stops beside it.

Did I miss a memo or something?

Since when did my street become such a high-end one?

“You don’t live around here?” I ask.

“No. I came to see a friend.”

“Oh okay.”

“I’m Nathan, by the way,” he reveals his name and boyishly smirks. “Should’ve led with that.”

“I’m Iris.” Wow. I can’t believe we had a whole conversation without even exchanging names.

God! I’m a stupid mess.

This goes against my very nature.

I’m not the kind of girl to have a pleasant conversation with a guy I met without my palms sweating. The only reason I found the courage to talk to him was only because of the knowledge that we’ll never cross paths again. It was freeing and empowering.

So, what does it matter if he thinks I’m a lunatic?

Besides, my neighborhood isn’t expensive, while his sports car screams insane money. No way he comes here often, friend or not.

I stand to the side as he unlocks his car.

Opening the driver’s side, he hovers instead of sliding inside. “And, Iris?”

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