Page 78 of A Million To Fall

I shake my head. “Sounds really nice.”

The smile slips into something almost startled. Like I said something he wasn’t prepared to hear. For a second, he just looks at me.

Then he clears his throat. “Well, unfortunately I’m about to head out.”

“Oh.” The disappointment escapes before I can stop it. I recover quickly. “That’s alright. I can still order dinner. Maybe take it home. Watch terrible reality TV until I fall asleep, or… not,” I trail off, forcing a grimace of a smile.

Boston studies me. The bravado I walked in here with starts crumbling under the weight of his attention. “You’re really scared, huh?” he asks quietly.

The question shouldn’t result in a fat lump in my throat, but it does anyway.

I look away. “Maybe a little.”

“A little?” he repeats.

I gesture vaguely. “My parents are on the other end of the country. Archer’s in the middle of nowhere with no cell reception. The house is huge. Every noise sounds like the beginning of a murder documentary.”

That earns me a laugh. Then his eyes soften. “You haven’t eaten yet?”

“Not really.”

Boston glances at the door, then back at me. He sighs. “Alright.”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Let’s grab you some food and then, if you’d like, I’ll come to your place for a little bit. Hang out? Make sure everything’s good?”

“Boss, I…”

The words catch in my throat.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I’ll just need to change.” He looks down at his shirt. “Unless you think that wet t-shirt look’s making a comeback.”

Despite everything, I laugh.

I make my way across the restaurant to the take-out counter, Boston following close enough that I can feel the heat of him.

“Hey, Boss!” a waitress says, appearing behind the counter. Her name tag spells Maya in bolt, black letters. “What are you still doing—oh.” Her eyes widen at his state. “What happened?”

“I accidently made him spill his drink.” I grimace.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad,” Maya says with a vacant nod as her eyes roll over Boston’s chest… and linger.

The back of my neck prickles.

“Can he get a refill?” I ask, sharper than I meant to.

“Oh, yeah.” She blinks. “Of course.”

She’s already reaching for a cup when I add, “I’d also like to order some food. For both of us.”

Boston tries to protest. “No, Stormy, you don’t—”

“I do. I attacked you with a door and a Coke. What do you want?”

He opens his mouth as if to argue, then just grins. “Cheeseburger?”

“That’s it? One tiny burger?” I size him up, taking the opportunity to let my eyes roam. Just for a second. “You’re more than a foot taller than me and weigh what, a hundred and eighty-five pounds? Don’t you need more food than that?”