Big lie.
I shudder and adjust my backpack on my shoulder.
When Aaron stands up and stretches, Leo also gets to his feet. I can see him perfectly, his dark eyes and broad chest, and my stupid mind takes me right back to his bed. I can’t do it. I can’t look at that body, that smile, those hands, and not think about our night together. Or the disastrous, heartbreaking morning after. I swallow the lump in my throat and will away the brewing tears.
Aaron passes by Rime, bidding him farewell and sending Rime’s gaze in my direction. Like a dumbass deer in headlights, I freeze. Rime flashes his baby blues at me, letting me know I’ve been spotted. My first impulse is to run right out the front doors, or better yet, to the ladies’ room, but I’m sickened by the idea of being such a coward. He doesn’t draw anyone else’s attention to me, and only when no one’s looking does he hold up a finger, signaling for me to wait.
There’s no backing out now.
As Leo and Avery exit through the back doors, Rime turns on his heel and heads this way. Once I’m convinced Leo’s gone, I come out of hiding and greet Rime with a shaky smile.
“Well, hello there, little psychic. Where did you come from?” His grin suggests he knows exactly what I’ve been up to.
“Thank you for not telling him you saw me.”
“Thank you for not running out the door.”
These god-damned fae. How do they always know what I’m thinking?
He props a shoulder against the wall. “Are you considering helping us?”
“Um—maybe?” Avery said Rime is the one to talk to, the one to trust. “I have class in a few minutes, but, uh, could you meet me sometime this week?”
“Just me?”
“Yes, please.”
He straightens, his smile gentle. “Alright. We’ll talk, just you and me.”
“I have lots of questions.”
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Unlike Leo.
After Rime and I make a date, I watch him walk away, even though I’m already late for class. Dozens of pairs of eyes follow as he makes his way to the doors. I smile at the dramatic irony.
You really want to turn heads, Rime? Take off your glamour.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I hopeRime and the others understand that my willingness to talk to him doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to help. I need a shit-ton more information and some time to think—time they apparently don’t have. Honestly, I don’t know why I agreed to this chat. Maybe underneath, I’m hoping Rime will tell me they need me to do something so preposterous and impossible that I won’t have to feel guilty for walking away.
It’s a cold walk downtown, but I’m too busy being on the lookout to notice. Unless Rime takes the bus, which I can’t see him doing, his only way to get here is if Leo drives him, and Leo’s is not a face I want to see right now.
Luckily, I make it to the cafe without incident. I order some coffee and find a cozy, inconspicuous table alongside the back wall. Not that Rime won’t draw everyone’s attention, but hopefully once he sits down, the other patrons will forget about him and get back to their own business.
Sure enough, when Rime blows in with the cold, every head turns in his direction. He spots me, smiles, and makes his way through the tightly packed tables. Literature and writing majors,budding anthropologists, art historians, and philosophers all look up from their drinks. How can theynotnotice Rime? He’s over six feet tall, broad and imposing, and gives off strong warrior vibes. He said he was in the militia, didn’t he? Well, it shows. The only thing that helps him blend in among Mountain Brew’s clientele is the fact that he’s wearing all black.
“Cold night,” he remarks as he shrugs out of his coat and folds his long limbs into the tight space across the table.
Cold night? Such a mundane thing to say. But then, he’s temporarily in a mundane world, talking to a human.
“Get some coffee,” I urge. “It’ll warm you up.”
He leans and whispers, “I’ve tried it. I don’t like it.”
“Coffee?”
