Page 46 of Haunt Me, Maybe

“Oh,” she breathed. “There you are.”

“Were you expecting someone else?” I asked lightly, and her cheeks colored.

“No. I just—I didn’t expect⁠—”

I didn’t bother hiding my grin; she was so easy to fluster. Those rosy cheeks made me think of less virtuous things, though, so I changed the subject.

“How was your night?”

“Fine,” she said, too fast, and her eyes settled on anything but me.

My own gaze narrowed as I watched her, like a hunter that caught a shift in the air.

“Did you have fun?” I tried again, watching for any tells that something went wrong.

She froze for half a second before forcing herself to move the couple of steps toward the little table she used as a kitchenette.

“Yeah. Briony is…Briony.”

A corner of my mouth lifted. That was an understatement. It looked like her reluctance to talk had more to do with what Briony said or did rather than something that happened.

“That bad, huh?” I asked, taking my first step away from the window in hours.

Aven met my knowing grin with an exhausted one.

“She’s…enthusiastic.”

Oh boy. Everyone in town knew exactly what wound Briony up—they also knew to avoid mentions of them unless you wanted to listen to her hyper-excited babble about it for hours on end. Boys and baking. There was no way Briony took Aven to Clover & Thyme to talk recipes. That meant…

“You don’t say.” It took immense effort to keep the laughter out of my voice. “About what?”

Aven’s shoulders tensed. “Everything.”

That was a lie. Or at the very least, too broad of an answer. I allowed the silence to stretch between us as she poured herself a glass of water. She gulped it down as if it would cool the heat crawling up her neck.

“Did she say anything interesting?” I pushed.

“No.”

Another too-quick answer. I didn’t call her out on it, but I did move closer and focused on the rapid fluttering of her pulse.

“Uh-huh.”

She set the half-empty glass down hard, sending water sloshing over the rim. “Why are you interrogating me?”

“I’m not,” I answered, still smoothly making my way across the room. “I’m making conversation.”

She exhaled, reigning in that spark, and dropped into the nearby desk chair. “She was just…asking questions.”

Now we were getting somewhere. A little more pushing, and she might finally spill what she was trying so hard to hide.

“Oh?” Right next to her now, I leaned a hip against the desk. Causally. Not too interested. “About what?”

“...things.”

The way she avoided my gaze told me exactly what kinds of “things” her new friend wanted to know. I approved. If Briony could get her to open up, it might not be as overwhelming for her when we inevitably tried things even more scandalous than me fingering her while obsessing over her writhing reflection.

“What kind of things?” I asked, letting my voice dip.