Page 25 of Half Truths (Secret Society 1)
“Can’t you just thank me for opening the door for you?”
“Oh.” I stepped forward, brushing past him, blushing furiously again because what the heck was wrong with me when I was around this guy? “Thanks for opening the door for me.”
“And for walking you home.”
“You just said you weren’t walking me home.”
“Thank me anyway.”
I huffed out a breath, rolling my eyes. “You’re seriously confusing me with your boring harem.”
“Boring harem.” He was clearly trying not to smile. “I definitely don’t think you can be part of that harem.”
“You know, if you’re just going to insult me all night, I think this conversation needs to be over.” I lifted my chin up to him. He walked inside and let the door close behind him. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you leaving?”
“I’ve decided to walk you home after all.”
“Well, I’m home.” I waved a hand around the lobby.
He exhaled. “To your door, Amelia.”
My heart skipped. Stupid, idiotic instrument. Nobody ever called me Amelia. As soon as they heard my name, everyone tried to shorten it, which was why I made it easy for them by introducing myself as Amelia, but you can call me Mae, most of the time. I thought about it for a moment. What could really go wrong if he walked me to my door? I reminded myself: black belt, some self-defense, my father owned the building, and Gary the security guard would most certainly be watching the cameras. Fuck it.
“Fine.” I turned toward the elevator. Logan followed.
We rode up to my floor in silence. Awkward silence.
“You’re not much of a talker,” he said.
“Depends on who you ask. My ex said I never shut the fuck up.”
His face darkened. “Why would he say that?”
“Because I never shut the fuck up.” I cracked a smile.
“You should smile more often.”
“Why? You’d like me if I smiled?”
His mouth twitched. “You’re really stuck on that.”
“Want me to be honest? I think I feel a little offended by it.”
“Because normally men throw themselves all over you.”
“Not all of them.” I held his gaze. “Obviously.”
Neither of us spoke, but the amusement in his eyes was gone, replaced by something darker, something that tugged me and spread heat inside me. He was looking at me like someone who wanted to kiss me, and against my better judgment, I would totally let him. When the elevator doors opened and chimed, neither one of us moved. I felt like he was rooting me in place with some spell cast from his eyes. The elevator doors started to close, and Logan put out his arm to stop it. He was still looking at me, having this never-ending staring contest that only had one ending, an animalistic make-out session followed by hours of fucking.
My core clenched at the possibility of the second option. I hadn’t kissed a guy that wasn’t Travis in well over two years. I wouldn’t even know how to do it, but I wanted to so badly right now. The elevator started alarming us to either get out or stay in, I broke away from his gaze and walked out. He followed.
“Where do you live anyway?” I asked, licking my lips as I searched for my keys in my crossbody.
“Down the hall.”
“Down this hall?” I stopped walking. My gaze followed as he pointed to the apartment opposite of mine, way down the hall. I looked at him. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“That just means that you don’t pay attention to your surroundings nearly as much as you should.”
“Have you seen me?”
“It feels like I see you everywhere.”
“I’m not sure what to make of that statement,” I said absentmindedly as something caught my eye. “What is that?”
There was something on the floor in front of my door. It looked like a flower. I swung the key ring around my finger as we walked in that direction, my eyes on the white flower—a gardenia? My mother was obsessed with them and always had them planted in our house. Beneath it, a white envelope with my name written in script on it. Before I could bend down to pick it up, Logan did it for me.
“Secret admirer?”
Nobody knew I lived here, only Celia. Logan handed me the flower and envelope. It was really thin, so thin that it could very well be empty. I stared at my name on it a moment longer and looked up at Logan.
“It’s probably from my parents.” I frowned. “Nobody knows I live here.”
He cleared his throat. “How’s Lincoln?”
My shoulders slumped. “Still in a coma. I don’t know how long they plan to keep him like that.”
Logan idled a little. “Well, if you need me I’m in 408.”
“I am not going to 408.” I looked up at him from the envelope. “Not one of your groupies, remember?”
“How can I forget?” He sort of smiled.
