Page 40 of Jump on Three

His laugh, a joyful rumble slotting into the uneven space between us, was low and exclusive for me. My toes curled inside my trainers, and I let out a soft sigh.

“I wish you’d stayed.”

I nodded, still not looking at him. He meant it. I’d allowed Layla to influence me and had let Ivan down. “Next time, I will.”

“I will take that as a promise. Don’t break your promises, Evelyn.”

“I won’t,” I whispered.

He tugged on the end of my hair. “Are you tired?”

“No.” I flicked my eyes to his, noticing his lowered eyelids. “Are you?”

“Mmmhmm. I’m at war within myself, though.”

“Why?”

He propped his elbow on the armrest between us, leaning closer. “It isn’t often I have the opportunity to spend uninterrupted time speaking to you. I don’t want to waste it, but I could use a nap too.”

He really did look tired. Too many late nights sneaking out on his secret missions.

“You should nap.” I rubbed my lips together. “I won’t even make fun of you if you drool.”

His knuckle grazed my jaw so lightly I didn’t know he’d done it until he was drawing away.

“I would never doubt you.” He gave me a sleepy smile and slipped his hand into his hoodie pocket, withdrawing earbuds. “I feel like a dick for going to sleep when I’m sitting with you.”

“We’ll have more bus rides.”

“Yeah, we will, won’t we?” Another sleepy smile, then he put his earbuds in.

His eyes closed, and I let myself watch him sink into sleep. Little by little, every ounce of tension seeped out until he was entirely relaxed.

I took my time studying him. The pointy wing of the swallow called to me, but I didn’t dare touch it. That would have been going too far. Looking at him was enough.

The dusky pink of his slack lips.

The length of his neck and point of his Adam’s apple.

His shoulders tipped toward me.

Hair kicking up in all directions around his face and ears.

His scent of pine and chlorine.

I trailed to his hands resting on his lap. His phone was in one hand, slipping as his fingers opened. In danger of falling, I plucked it up, intending to deposit it in his hoodie pocket, but his Spotify caught my attention.

It wasn’t snooping if I looked at one playlist, was it?

It was. I knew it was. But I couldn’t resist—especially since he’d offered to share it several times.

My brow pinched as I read the list of songs on the screen. They were familiar. I had these songs on my “Nap Vibes” playlist. These exact songs, in this exact order.

I scrolled back to the top of the list and bit back a yelp. This was my playlist.

What…?

What did this mean?