Page 32 of Stay Scared

I look at him despite myself.

Cade pours the whiskey. “You wore those boots too,” he says, nodding toward the replica hallway. “The toes were already ruined.”

“I liked them.”

“You treated them like emergency equipment.”

“They were easier to run in than heels.”

“You chose the seat facing the exit before you looked at me.”

He carries the drinks to the booth and puts mine near my right hand, leaving the inside seat empty. I slide in with the entrance still visible, and Cade sits opposite me with the skull mask hiding his face.

“You ordered whiskey neat.”

“You picked a whiskey bar.”

“You stared at the cocktail menu first.”

“The names were entertaining.”

“You almost ordered one with cherries.”

“I decided against public humiliation.”

His eyes narrow behind the mask. “You said, ‘Whiskey neat. Something that hurts.’”

The line returns in my younger voice.

“You laughed at me.”

“I laughed because you were terrified and trying to make it look expensive.”

I push the glass toward him. “You built an entire room around a date I spent half of wanting to escape.”

“And the other half?”

I look at the whiskey, and Cade leaves the question with me.

He removes one glove and rests his hand on the table. A faint burn scar crosses the base of his thumb.

“You stared at my hands before you looked at my face.”

“I was checking whether you knew how to use them.”

“You told me you didn’t want to waste eyeliner on a man with disappointing fingers.”

A laugh nearly gets out, but I stop it. The skull mask makes Cade’s satisfaction unbearable.

“You remember.”

“I remember my own jokes.”

“You remember how I reacted.”

“You stared at your hands like nobody had ever made them an entrance exam.”

“Nobody had.”