Page 55 of Love Me Not
“Does reading help you sleep?”
I thought of all the nights I’d read until dawn. “Not at all.”
“Then I think we’ve found your problem.”
“Reading is never a problem.”
“Reading when you should be sleeping is.”
How did he…? “I never said I read during the night.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Maureen arrived with my sundae and I had to admit, I probably should have skipped it. “Is there a way to get that to go?”
“I can put it in a box, but I’m not sure how long it’ll last before you get it into a freezer.”
“My apartment isn’t far from here so it should be fine.”
Maureen nodded. “Then I’ll pack it right up.”
Trey pushed his plate away. “You live close to here?”
“You mean you haven’t weaseled my address out of Becca yet?”
The chuckle was deep and genuine. “I’m not a stalker.”
“True. I see you more often than I’d see a stalker.”
“We work across the hall from each other,” he reminded me. “And you have to admit, I’m growing on you.”
That phrase kept coming up. I was getting used to having him around, and the urge to run anytime our paths crossed had subsided. Then there were all the times he crept into my head when he wasn’t around, and that urge over the weekend to call and tell him things. I’d been my normal, curmudgeon self and still, here he was, smiling and as affable as ever.
“We’re total opposites, you know.”
Trey smiled. “Think of it more like we complement each other.”
“You’ll never be able to tolerate me for long.”
Knowing what buttons to push already, he said, “Then you’ll get to say I told you so. But I think you’re wrong.”
Was this how all great relationships started? With warnings and contradictions?
“I have no plans of ever marrying,” I said, wanting to be extremely clear. “I’m not going to change my mind on that.”
With a slow nod, he said, “Heard.”
Having him watch me like that—like I was the eighth wonder of the world and a giant protein shake rolled into one—I didn’t know what to do with myself. Thankfully, Maureen returned with my packed up dessert.
“I need to get this home,” I said the moment the box hit the table.
“We’ll take the check, please,” he said, never taking his eyes off mine.
“You can pay at the counter,” Maureen replied. “I’ll meet you up there.”
Trey tilted his head to the left. “After you.”
Suddenly self-conscious, I nodded, grabbed my purse and exited the booth. As he followed me to the front counter, I could almost feel the happiness radiating off of him. One patron even called out a hello and congrats on the successful football season.