Page 125 of Fight or Flight
“What noises?” he asks innocently.
“Are you doing that thing where you pretend to be a human with emotions and feelings, but you’re really just running a program like some sort of android?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Android?” he repeats with a grin. “I like that. I’m totally stealing it.”
I blink at him a few times. “Why are you here?”
“Because it’s a party and I’m bored.”
“But whythisparty? There have to be dozens of parties happening tonight. Why are you here atthisone?”
“Because I was invited.”
“By who?”
“You.”
“What? I didn’t invite you.”
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
“When you texted and told me all about the hot girls here. Remember?”
I nod and swallow hard as he looks me up and down, his icy eyes as intense as I’ve ever seen them. I did text him that, and I still regret every single message I sent.
I don’t even know why I texted him in the first place, but I can’t deny that I don’t hate the idea that he’s here.
The little flare of good feels disappears, and a pit forms in my stomach. Did he come here for the girls, and it has nothing to do with me?
He takes a step closer and stops when we’re still a few feet apart. “Why are you out here and not inside with all the hot girls?”
“I needed some air,” I tell him, but my voice sounds dry and forced, like I just chewed on a mouthful of sawdust.
He tilts his head to the side and studies me for a few beats.
“What?” I ask when the silence between us stretches.
“Why did you text me?” he asks, his tone just as intense as those eyes that are definitely going to be the death of me.
“I don’t know,” I scrape out.
“Were you thinking about me while you were talking to her?”
I look away as my cheeks flush hot.
“Tell me.”
“Maybe,” I admit grudgingly.
“And what were you thinking about?”
I don’t answer.
He steps closer, and my stomach clenches as he pauses when we’re only about a foot apart.
There’s something about the way he moves that’s both weirdly fascinating and absolutely terrifying. Like an apex predator closing in on its prey.
