Page 52 of Dark Verse

Slowly, I swing my leg over and pull off the helmet. He pulls off his as well, but remains seated. His eyes are alight in delight, his hair messy.

“Home safely, as promised.”

“Thank you for the ride. And thank you for the suggestion. That place was…wild. We were there for over three hours, and I feel like we only saw half of it. I need a whole second day to see the rest of it.”

“I guess it’s a second date.”

“I guess so,” I respond after a moment.

His grin gets even bigger, and that tug on my chest gets even harder to ignore.

After another brief pause, I ask casually, “You want to come up for a minute?”

That adorable gap reappears as his smile fully breaks.

“Yes.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

KNOX

VEN’S APARTMENT is on the third floor. A narrow stairwell leads up to a door with two tones of paint. The 3 of the 34 is askew.

As we step inside, she flips on the lights, and I get my first glimpse of the space—small but lived-in. The perfect size for one person. Two small ceiling lights cast soft yellow light on everything. A couch clearly chosen for comfort over style, a dated but sturdy-looking entertainment center, and a single plant trying its best, sitting on the side table beside a bronze floor lamp.

“Welcome to my temporary palace,” she says, dropping her keys into a bowl by the door.

She kicks off her heeled boots, and I follow suit.

“It’s nice,” I say, and mean it.

It’s nothing fancy, but it’s still nicer than my first apartment after high school. I’ve become convinced in the years since I lived there that it was a former drug house. The number of weird hiding spots I came across was too numerous to count after a while. I was elated to move out of there, to put it mildly.

“Tour?” she asks, and I nod.

Without moving from the center of the room, she points to her left.

“Kitchen, of course.”

Ven gestures to the other spaces around us. “Living room, obviously. Bathroom’s there.” She points. “And…” taking a handful of steps towards the one closed door, she pushes it open and turns on that light also. “Bedroom.”

It is another simply decorated space—a neatly made bed, two books on the nightstand, an old lamp. Nothing staged, nothing hidden. But also nothing that screams Ven. Seeing it makes me curious what her apartment looks like back in L.A.

“Cozy,” I say.

“That’s one word for it,” she replies with a small laugh, closing the door again.

She moves back toward the kitchen, opening the fridge.

“Want something to drink? I’ve got beer, some wine, soda… or water, if you’re boring.”

Leaning against the counter, I say, “I’ll take the boring option.”

Ven glances over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t drink anymore.”

“Now we both know I’m going to have to respond to the anymore part of that statement.”