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I look out the window. The surrounding buildings look vaguely familiar, but I’m not sure why. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” His voice is low, dark.
“Xander, I’m exhausted, and I’m still in my uniform. I don’t want to do anything right now except shower and sleep for the next decade. Where are you taking me?”
“Just trust—” he cuts himself off, exhaling sharply. “I’m just getting you some food, and then I’m taking you home.”
Sighing, I settle against the seat. Wherever we’re going seems annoyingly out of the way, but whatever. I can sleep in the car. So I close my eyes again, and soon enough, reality starts to bend and meld with my fleeting dreams.
When Alexander’s hand brushes against my leg, I jump awake.
“Where are we?” I mumble, looking around. We’re in a familiar-looking parking lot, and when I glance up at the building in front of us, something inside me warms.
Café Luna.
We used to come here all the time when we were in high school. It was a bit of a drive, but I loved their summer berry salad.
“I’ll be right back.” He plants a kiss on my forehead before heading inside the café, leaving the car running.
My eyes flutter closed again, but I don’t let myself fall back asleep. I can’t. A smile is creeping onto my face, and I can’t stop it.
He remembered. It’s been years since we’ve come here together, but he remembered.
Because he cares.
My shoulders tense at the thought, and I brush it off. I can’t project extra feelings and intentions onto Alexander. I can’t let myself get caught up in this.
He hasn’t earned your trust yet, Sophia. He won’t. Don’t you dare give it to him.
In a few minutes, he comes back with a takeout bag in one hand and a drink in the other. Once he’s opened the door, he hands me both. “Frozen lemonade and summer berry salad with grilled chicken, no dressing.”
I take both, mumbling a thank you. To hide the smile still plastered onto my face, I keep my head down, focusing on opening up the salad container and diving in.
It tastes just how I remember, the perfect blend of fruits covering up the bitterness of the greens. I’m probably halfway through when I realize Alexander hasn’t started driving yet.
“What?” I say, setting down the fork.
He’s watching me, his dark brown eyes full of passion and restrained want. But he just shakes his head and turns away, backing up and then pulling out of the parking lot.
Shrugging, I continue to eat. I’m too hungry to continue our conversation, and honestly, I don’t want to. I know I hurt him by telling him I don’t trust him, but it’s nothing he doesn’t already know.
Still. I know I’d be devastated if someone I loved said those words to me. But I don’t love him, and he doesn’t love me. We’ve barely seen each other in years.
And he hasn’t even apologized yet.
I settle back as I finish my salad. That’s an argument for another time.
When Alexander parks in front of my house, I undo my seatbelt and lean over to give him a quick kiss him on the cheek. He places a hand on the back of my neck, keeping me near him, and presses his lips to mine.
“Thank you for the food,” I say in between kisses. “And the ride.”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, too.”
I sit back. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to. That way I know you get to and from work safe. And I know it’s easier on you, as well.”
I snort. “You want to pick me up at a quarter to five every morning?”
