Page 14 of Jack Frost
Jack brings our drinks, and we struggle through more small talk—at least, I struggle. He and Karyl seem to find plenty to say. While observing them, I notice a pattern; anytime she swerves into a topic he's unfamiliar with, he just listens for a while, and then skillfully nudges the subject in a different direction.
Finally Karyl drains her coffee cup and rises. "All right, bathroom break before the drive to Asheville! You coming, Emery?"
"I went at the airport," I tell her.
"Girl, you just drank a ton of coffee." She waggles a finger at me. "You better not be asking me to stop half an hour into the trip."
"I won't."
She saunters away, and finally I work up the courage to look Jack straight in the eyes. "What are you doing?"
"You didn't believe I was real, so—" He spreads his hands, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"Okay, you proved your point. We're done now."
"Done?"
"Do you plan to hitch a ride to Asheville with us?"
"Not at all. My cover story is that I'm working here in Charlotte. That way I can pop over to Asheville whenever I want, and no one will suspect a thing."
"You don't need a cover story. You're not 'popping over' to Asheville. You're not involved in my life."
"Hey, Isavedyour life."
"What, so you're my stalker now?"
Jack recoils in mock offense. "Rude."
"Well, what else do you call someone who keeps showing up at random moments when they're not invited?"
"A friend?"
"No. Friends text first."
"But I don't have a phone."
"Sucks for you." I tip the rest of my coffee into my mouth. "Why don't you use some of your cash to buy yourself a phone?"
"I usually don't need to call anyone."
"A phone isn't just for calling. It's for games, books, news, social media—everything."
Jack props his elbows on the tiny table and leans across it, until his blue eyes are dazzlingly close to mine. "And these companies that make the phones—I assume they are every bit as conscientious about the environment as you are?"
My cheeks warm. "You know they're not. But I'm not wasteful with my tech—I don't chase new models, and I always recycle my old phones—"
"I know." His smile doesn't erase the sadness in his eyes. "You're caught in the web, like everyone else. You can't escape it completely, but at least you're struggling. I'm sorry for what I said to you back in Antarctica—calling you selfish and entitled. I was frustrated, and tired."
"Welcome to the club. I'm always frustrated and tired."
That predatory grin again. "We should try to remedy that." He moves an inch closer, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
"That's why I drink coffee," I snarl, shoving back my chair. "It's my one indulgence."
"My one indulgence is art. And now, apparently, you."
"Oh god." I snatch my purse. "Look, I don't want to be your indulgence, your rest stop, your anything, okay? I have a lot to do when I get home—I've got to get my apartment unpacked, and rest up for work on Monday, and help with the benefit. I don't have time for lonely magical strays. There are a ton of environmental activists in the world—men, women, other—and some of them are a lot prettier than me. I'm sure most of them are sincere, too. Go find one of them to be your encouragement buddy or whatever."
