Page 43 of Twisted Shot
And then she’d know.
Poor, fucked-up Theo.
So he swallows it down, keeps his eyes on his coffee, pretending he doesn’t feel her gaze like a warm hand on the back of his neck.
Before either of them can speak again, there’s a thunderousthud-thud-thudof someone taking the stairs three at a time.
“Yo,” Jesse calls, appearing in the doorway with a trash bag slung over one shoulder and tortilla dust smeared across his cheek like war paint. “Are we vibing in here or avoiding responsibility?”
He clocks the two of them sitting with their coffees, pauses dramatically, and grins.
“Well, shit,” Jesse says. “My bad.”
Theo rolls his eyes and sips his coffee, grateful for the distraction. Mila lets out a low laugh, the tension softening a little.
“Was just saying hi,” she says, standing and brushing invisible crumbs off her sweater. “I should get going. I’ve got to pack before my flight.”
Theo’s stomach dips.
Right. She’s leaving.
Not just his house. The city.
Jesse gasps theatrically. “You’re abandoning us in our darkest hour? I saved a bag of taquitos for you.”
“Tempting,” Mila says, grabbing her coat off the hook by the door, “but I think I’ll leave the biohazard cleanup to you.”
“Rude,” Jesse mutters, kicking a deflated balloon out of the way.
Theo stands as she moves toward the door, a quiet weight settling in his chest. He tells himself he’ll find a way to tell her. Not now, with Jesse and JP within earshot, but soon.
“Hey,” he says, just as her hand touches the doorknob. “You never looked for your phone.”
She pauses. A flicker of something crosses her face—surprise, maybe. Embarrassment?
Then she turns, cheeks faintly pink. “Right. I, uh…I think I left it in the car after all.”
She gives him a half-smile, almost shy. “But thanks for the coffee.”
And just like that, she’s gone.
The door clicks shut behind her, and Theo stares at it a moment too long.
She didn’t forget her phone. She came here for something else.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Tilbury.
He picks up his mug and drinks what’s left, now cold.
Jesse sidles up beside him with a fresh trash bag and nudges him with his elbow. “You’re not slick, my guy. She came over for you, not the espresso machine.”
Theo doesn’t answer.
But he lets himself hope—just a little.
CHAPTER 15
MILA
