Page 129 of Detectives in Love
I turn back and see he’s already under the comforter, pulled up to his chin.
“Yeah?” I say, pausing in the doorway.
He holds my gaze for a second, like he’s about to say something. But then he just shakes his head and closes his eyes.I watch him for a few more seconds before slipping out of the room, leaving the door ajar—just enough to hear him if he calls.
In the kitchen, I pull out a few eggs to boil, drop some bread in the toaster, and set a pot of milk on the stove. It’s not much, but it’s the most protein I can scrape together from our fridge without stepping outside and dealing with those vultures again.
For a long while, I just stand there, lost in thought, watching the pale swirl of milk as it heats. After yesterday’s chaos, today already feels like too much. I think about Katie—how she thinks I distracted her on purpose while Xavier snuck into the center. About Crowley, Rishetor, and the paparazzi outside, who caught me saying some dumb shit on camera that I’ll now have to explain to everyone—from Monica to my mom, and probably Ernest too.
And then, of course, I think of Xavier.
I think about us having sex this morning—wondering if it was just tension breaking loose, a reaction to the poisoning, or something else entirely. I think of him kissing me in the bathroom at the police station, when he thought he was dying.
I try not to think about the things he whispered to me in the car, because I know they weren’t real. Believing them would only set me up for disappointment. So I shove them to the back of my mind. Let them simmer there—still acknowledged, just out of sight.
I take the eggs off the stove, run them under cold water and peel them, then butter the toasts and set everything on a plate.
It’s only when I pull myself out of my thoughts that I realize—I’m still wearing my shoes. And my jacket. I head intothe living room, take everything off, and just as I toss my jacket over the back of the chair, my phone buzzes. I pull it out and glance at the screen.
One unread message.
Xavier:No hope for you tucking me in?
A shiver prickles down my skin. I type back:
Me:I thought you were already asleep.
His reply comes almost instantly.
Xavier:Can’t sleep
And then—
Xavier:Without you
But I refuse to let myself think more of it than it is. So I snort under my breath and type:
Me:Can’t wait to show you these texts tomorrow, Xavier. When you’re less drugged.
The next message takes longer to come through. I’m already back in the kitchen by then, cleaning up.
Xavier:I’ve told you worse things when I wasn’t drugged
I roll my eyes.
Me:Worse? Definitely. But this? This is too lovey-dovey for you.
Xavier:I’m always lovey-dovey when it comes to you, Newt
I stare at the screen. My heart’s racing. My throat’s dry.
Then another text comes in:
Xavier:Always have been
I freeze, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. I mean—it sounds like I know what he’s saying. But God, even drugged Xavier would never say something like this toanyone, let alone me.
Can’t say I’ve noticed!I type back, set on shutting this down before it spirals. Because yeah—I’m definitely showing him these texts tomorrow, just to piss him off.
