Page 18 of Detectives in Love
“He never stopped,” Xavier mutters, exhaling sharply. “Why can’t he just leave us alone?”
“I think he’s worried about you,” I say with a shrug.
“More like he just enjoys getting under my skin.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, rubbing my still-throbbing temples. “Feels like the whole world wants a piece of us today. Thank God for Fred, at least—he saved us from those journalists.”
“Don’t mention that idiot,” Xavier grumbles.
“I still don’t get why you dislike him so much.”
“He’s a journalist. They’re…slippery.”
“You can’t lump them all together, Xavier. Imagine if people judged all detectives based on me or you.”
“You’re right. They’d be setting the bar way too high.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Fred might be blunt, but he’s kind. And for what it’s worth, he likes you.”
“Well, I don’t like him. He talks too much. And calls youNewty.”
I grin despite myself. “That’s why you don’t like him? Because he calls me Newty?”
“A little too cozy for a former classmate,” Xavier says, deadpan.
“Everyone called me that in high school.”
“Did they?” Xavier asks, watching me closely.
I meet his gaze, trying to stay composed, though it’s not easy under those piercing blue eyes.
For a few seconds, neither of us blinks, locked in some unspoken standoff—until my phone vibrates again.
I glance at the screen. This time, it’s Ernest.
Ernest Ormond:“Don’t tell him I’m texting you. We need to talk. Ernest Ormond.”
I quickly type back:“What’s this about?”and hit send—just as Xavier speaks.
“Now he’s texting you?”
I look up to find Xavier glaring at my phone, his expression dark.
“Yes,” I say simply. No point in hiding it.
“Don’t answer.”
“I just want to know what he wants.”
“I know what he wants.”
“Well?” I prompt, raising an eyebrow.
“The same as everyone else,” Xavier says, straightening up. “Details about today’s article. Just ignore him.”
“Fine,” I nod, slipping my phone back into my pocket.
