Page 25 of Love at First Sighting
“I…” I begin. “I can always help you.”
Marcus huffs. “Trust me, you don’t want to.”
I want to fight back, and the testy part of me wants to grill him further.
“I promise, you aren’t missing any fun,” he says. “I’m giving you an out to avoid monotonous paperwork here. Take it, kid. Go home and get out of the monkey suit.”
His tired smile lessens the pressure in the room. It doesn’t, however, lessen my panic that we’re running out of time.
El (8:22 pm):Do you watch angel city noir?
Carter (8:23 pm):Oh no, not you too.
El (8:25 pm):It’s actually pretty good. And everyone dresses like you.
El (8:26 pm):There was just a big fight scene in a movie theater.
El (8:26 pm):I’m doing ~research~
Carter (8:27 pm):This is real. Not some soap opera procedural. I really don’t think watching angel city noir is going to get you anywhere.
El (8:28 pm):Well, not with that attitude, it won’t!
El (8:28 pm):
Carter (8:29 pm):Busy tonight?
El (8:30 pm):Yes. I’m watching angel city noir.
Carter (8:31 pm):Great. Incoming.
Chapter 7
El
Incoming?
Is he about to crash through my window?
Thankfully, he follows up with an “I’m on my way.”
It’s late evening by the time a car engine hums outside the Nest and I peek through the glass front door. Through the frosted glass, I see the fuzzy outline of Carter’s old car as it rolls up. Lea is too busy becoming an expert on an invasive species of moth, because that’s the crusade of the week, but Bex will say something.
Carter (8:52 pm):
I look myself over. I’m still in a pair of yoga pants and an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. Trendy enough. I’m trying, like, 73 percent. I usually worry about who is going to see me on any given day. Normally, it’s the wannabe DeuxMois who want to spot me at Erewhon trying to buy a salad. But tonight, for a reason I don’t want to investigate, I stop and think whether this is how I want Carter to see me.
I assume Bex is shooting a vlog in her bedroom, based onthe outside-voice Cockney coming from the room next door. I might be safe to make a run for it. I don’t know why I let a twenty-nine-year-old woman going through herDoctor Whophase like this is 2011 Tumblr boss me around, but shedoesdecide if I get to stay here or not.
I dip along the hedges and round the corner. On the dark streets, Carter is little more than a shadow of sharp angles and crisp edges, from the brim of his agingtrilbyhat to the tight crease of his suit where his arm rests against the open window.
Someone assigned to follow me around should not be this handsome.
Someone who wears a hat and suspenders every day should not turn me on like this.
Someone like him isn’t supposed to believe me, but he does.
“Evening, Officer,” he says.
