Page 40 of Hexed
I’ve already accepted that this boredom—this monotony—is going to be the rest of my life.
“You don’t know?” I test her.
She shrugs. “So what if I do? Maybe I want to hear about it from you.”
“It’s not an interesting story.” I wipe my mouth with the cloth napkin on my lap and then place it on the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth.
“So make it interesting,” she replies.
I stare at her, rubbing my chin. “She was a singer in one of my clubs.”
Venesa huffs out an amused laugh.
“What?” I prod, trying to bite back the smirk.
“It’s just kind of cliché, don’t you think?”
I lean back, spreading my legs out wide until my calf brushes against hers. A shock runs through my body at the unintentional touch, but neither of us moves away.
“Us sitting here, eating overpriced seafood and buying thirty-dollar souvenirs is a bit cliché, but it doesn’t make it any less enjoyable…or true,” I retort.
“Mm-hmm. So you fell in love with her voice and that was that?” She snaps her fingers.
I pop a fry in my mouth. “Something like that.”
She rolls her eyes and chuckles before standing up partway from her chair and bending over the table, swiping a fry from my plate, and slipping it between her gorgeous lips.
My throat dries, and I swallow harder than I should, heat blazing in my lower abdomen.That fucking mouth.
“You’re not a very good storyteller, Enzo,” she says after chewing. “I thought you’d be better at lying.”
Enzo.
There she goes with my name again, and fuck, it sounds good rolling off her tongue.
I want to hear her say it again.
Moan it.
Scream it.
But that’s a dangerous thought, so I clear my throat and turn my face to the side.
Clearly, I have control issues around her.
“Why don’t you tell me whatreallyhappened?” she asks.
I run a hand through my hair. “Because that story’s been beaten to death.”
“Tell me anyway.”
I shrug, a weird tightening sensation spreading across my chest. “Someone tried to gut me like a fish, and Aria dragged me onto shore and saved my life. Then she just…never really left. She was by my side every day.Every dayin the hospital, making sure I was taken care of. Not many people would do that, you know? See a dying man and stick around to make sure he lives.”
Venesa gives a sad smile.
“Anyway, I felt like I owed her, so when I was all healed up, my pops suggested I take her out, and then…” I shrug again.
“The rest is history,” Venesa finishes.
