Page 68 of The Lucky One

Paul rolled his eyes. “You won’t tell me what’s going on either. Great.”

“Paul...”

I reached over and put my hand on his—and an image of Kiki doing the same thing popped up in my mind’s eye. A sudden surge of jealousy blindsided me.

Paul’s eyes were like a storm brewing. The room seemed to close in on me as seconds ticked by and his features hardened again. “Emily, I think we need to stop touching so much,” he said, and I yanked my hand away, my cheeks burning.

“Sorry,” I gasped, mad at myself for touching him in the first place. Jon and I had talked about this. And here I was, doing it again. Argh.

But Paul used to be my home. It wasn’t so easy to lock the door and throw away the key.

“Don’t be.” He smiled a very exhausted-looking smile.

He must be so tired of this situation. I had to get over myself and let someone new move in.

I grabbed a cushion and squeezed it tight. This was the moment I’d dreaded: the moment we realized what we were doing couldn’t work—at least not on the intimate level we had kept it. I swallowed down the pool of saliva that had built in my mouth.

“No, I’m sorry. This entire situation we’re in, it freaks me out because you’re still so important to me, and I don’t know what I should and shouldn’t do.”

Paul laughed, flashing the dimples I so loved. “I get it. How about we have a code word? Whenever you think something is too much you just say...” He looked around the room and stopped on an old crust of grilled cheese on a plate. “Grilled cheese.”

I made a gagging face. “That definitely works!”

He laughed. “And what should I say?”

I quickly thought of something I knew he hated. “Algebra!”

“Meh, algebra actually isn’t that bad anymore,” he said, and I gave him an incredulous look. “Kiki started tutoring me,” he explained.

“Hm, I see.” I was missing out on so much of Paul’s life. “Then tomato salad. You still hate tomatoes, right?”

“Weird flavor, even weirder texture.”

I giggled into my palm. “I think that could work then.”

“I think so too,” Paul said, his features way more relaxed now.

“So...” I cleared my throat. “Friend Paul, may I ask what happened tonight that your knuckles are bandaged up and you were...” I stared at the coffee table in front of me. “Having a, um, date? With Kiki?” I swallowed.

Paul rested his head against the back of the couch, smiling. “It wasn’t a date. Or maybe it was... I don’t know, we never really clarified.”

“Okay...?” I said in a high-pitched voice. I wasn’t sure I liked hearing about his love life yet. Especially if it was with Kiki. The thought of Paul falling in love with her—constantly having my ex-boyfriend’s ex hanging around the house all the time—made my throat tighten. “So um, how come you got injured on your date... or not-date?”

Paul glanced down at the bandages. “Someone’s out for me, Emily. And I have no fucking idea why.” He took a sharp breath through his teeth. “Kiki was waiting outside Olive Garden while I paid the bill...”

If he paid then it was a date, right? I mean, friends usually split the bill, don’t they? I pressed my teeth together to stop that comment from leaking out.

“When I went outside this man was cornering her, asking about me and threatening her. I lost it. I punched him—I don’t even know how many times. I only stopped because of Kiki...”

I jumped up from the couch. “You need to go back to the police!”

He shook his head. “What would they do? Last time when I got attacked, they acted like I was bugging them for something that was my fault. Anyway, I barely remember the guy’s face, I was so mad.”

I paced around the room. “But Kiki will remember! I’m sure!”

Paul was on his feet now too. “No, we’re not pulling her into this. She has enough to worry about.”

“But Paul, the police should know, they can help!”