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My head shoots up.
Remi: If you don’t open it, I’ll just use my key.
Leaping off the couch, I run to the entrance and swing open the door. There stands Remi, holding up a six-pack of beer.
“Hey, Queeny. Up for a movie?”
“What are you doing here? Weren’t you just on a date?”
He dips his head. “Yeah, I was. But…”
“What?”
“I had a lot of fun today.”
I almost slam the door in his face. I do not want to hear about his amazing date. “Happy for you. Why are you here, then?”
“Because I didn’t want it to end. Can I come in or do you want to talk out here?”
“I—” Can’t find the rest of the sentence.
He skips up the front steps and slides past me into the foyer, giving me a panty-melting smile as he brushes by. “What do we have here?” Remi picks up my wine glass and sniffs it.
I go to pull it away from him, but he holds it up in the air, making me growl.
“Hey, get your own.”
He laughs at me before biting his lip illicitly. “What if I want yours?” His voice is pure velvet, brushing across my sensitive skin and beaconing the desire I’m desperately trying to ignore.
Setting my hands on my hips, I give him attitude. “Too bad. You can’t have it.”
“Sure about that, Queeny?” Without taking his eyes off me, he takes a sip of my wine, staining his pink lips red. “Mmm, delicious,” he purrs.
I want to die, only to be raised from the dead so I can watch him do that all over again.
“Where’s Mandy?” If he’s playing her—he probably is—I’ll lose all respect for him. Please, Universe, not him too.
Handing me back my glass, he walks to the kitchen and proceeds to look for a bottle opener.
“Remi?”
“Mae?”
“Where is Mandy? You know, your date.” I’m trying to keep my tone from becoming spastic, but the longer he stalls, the more my temper flares. “The person you should be with right now.”
He raises an eyebrow before clipping off the cap of a beer and taking a deep sip, pinning me with a piercing stare like he’s trying to transfer a subliminal message into my psyche. “Is she really the person I should be with right now?”
I want to yell, Of course she isn’t! But I can’t because she’s more suited for him than me. As much as I hate the idea, he should still be out with her.
“You didn’t call or send me pictures.” He looks dejected, then studies me for a minute. “Are you wearing blue eyeshadow?”
My hand flies to my face. Jesus. Why does he always have to see me at my worst?
“I asked you a question first.”
“If I answer, can I stay?”
I set my fist on my cocked hip. “That depends.”
