Page 69 of Patrick

Glancing back at the kitchen table, I notice a piece of paper held in place by a salt shaker. It’s a note from Pammy, and I read it.

Sofia,

I had to go to work at the bookstore. Here’s the key.

You’re welcome to stay over if you want. It’s been quite a day, but I had fun.

Hope to see you soon.

Pammy P

p.s. I work until 8. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge or pantry.

p.s.s. Thank you for the make-over! I’ll return your things after I wash them.

Reading the note again, I pause at the invitation to stay over. Pammy has to be the most generous, kind person I’ve met in a very long time. She’s the nice kind of girl I want for a friend.

But I can’t take advantage of her good nature and stay over.

It’s bad enough I talked her into letting Trick stay here. Guilt zaps me into action, and I gather my coat and bag.

Then I stop. I can’t make myself leave Trick without one last kiss, so I go back into his room.

Pushing a wavy lock of hair from his forehead, I caress his face and lose myself in those startling blue eyes as they open and darken into that sexy wolfish glaze. Then I kiss him lightly and pull back.

“I have to go.”

“I wish you could stay,” he says.

“I have a class. I already missed one earlier.”

“You missed a class for me?” he grins.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“That’s not where⁠—”

I laugh and put a finger over his mouth. But when he tries to suck it in, I pull it back, laughing again, and move off the bed, putting some distance between us.

“You’re incorrigible,” I admit. But I don’t admit that I’m tempted. Far too much. Is this falling in love? Not that I’ve ever felt this way. I need to talk to my sister.

“Come back soon, Fifi. Don’t leave me in this strange place to fend for myself.”

Fluttering in my tummy ensues. “I’ll be back. Though you’re not exactly going to be alone, are you?”

“No.” He frowns. “Why did you arrange this crazy roommate slash fake girlfriend deal?”

“A million reasons.”

He nods. “Daniel.” We stare at each other for a few breaths, reading each other’s thoughts and hearts. I know we’re thinking the same thing.

“Are we doing the right thing, Fifi?”

That question has too many possible meanings and too many possible answers.

“I don’t know.” I don’t know what he’s asking, and I don’t know the answer to whatever it is.