Page 17 of Heavensent & Hellbent

“No,” I said. But if I was being honest with myself, I did want him to say it was all a joke. I wanted to think that thing was a man, his friend, and that they were trying to scare me. I wanted all the weirdness that had happened since Mum died to go away. Not get worse.

“I have to go back to my shift.”

“Right,” I said.

When I finally made eye contact, his gaze softened. It was confusing, like he was always teetering between being standoffish and something different, like he didn’t know which version of himself to be.

He got out of the booth and took a few steps before turning around. “I get off in fifteen minutes. Wait here? We can talk properly after.”

I wanted to sayno, actually, I’m busy, but I wasn’t. In fact, the thought of leaving here with no answers and going home was deeply unappealing. “Okay, fine.”

“I’ll get you something to eat—on the house.”

After he left, I relaxed my tightly coiled body. I surveyed the diner and noticed Lynette watching me. When she saw me looking at her, she went back to refilling a coffeepot.

I took out the book I’d brought with me and attempted to read while I waited. Occasionally, I peered up to see Zain serving customers gracefully, his body moving quickly, ducking and weaving through people. He didn’t really smile, though, his face stony throughout. It was different from whenhe was speaking to me, looking amused while discussing murder.

I took out my phone and considered messaging Nic to tell her what I was doing. But she’d only tell me to stay away from him. If she’d been in this situation, I would have told her the same thing, and yet here I was, ignoring sound advice.

I had two missed calls from Dad. I sent him a message.

I’ve gone for a walk. Be back in a few hours.

Then I put my phone on Do Not Disturb and tucked it back into my bag. I should have told him I was going to work. Cleo had sent my work schedule, and I could use his lack of knowledge of when my shifts were to my advantage.

The waitress brought over a slice of lemon cheesecake—my favorite dessert—which I ate as I took out my iPad to roughly sketch my previous dream. I had not made much progress when Zain slid back into the booth.

He had changed into a black T-shirt, his hair a little messier. I noticed a silver ring cuffing his left ear and found myself getting distracted by it. He looked down at my iPad, and I quickly locked it. His gazed lingered on the now black screen for a beat, his face frozen in something like concern, and in a blink, it was gone. His features smoothed again.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier,” he started, practically fluttering his long eyelashes. It was clear he knew the effect he had on people, but it wouldn’t work on me. I knew what he was, what he had done.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I didn’t want to upset you,” he said.

It was ironic that this boy who I’d seen snap another man’s neck was concerned about upsetting me.

“I cry all the time,” I said, trying to be flippant, but when the words came out of my mouth, they sounded sad. I reached across the table to drink some of my water, also partly to do something with my hands.

“Why?” he asked, his voice gentler. He pressed his elbows on the table and leaned over.

“It’s just how I am. I’m a clinical crybaby. I cry when I’m angry, annoyed, sad, happy—you name it. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He nodded and spread his hands wide on the table. He gazed down at them for a moment before meeting my eye. “So, clinical crybaby, do you want to get out of here? Have some fun?”

I stared at his hands, at the tension in each of his slender, long fingers. These were the very fingers that had broken a man’s neck. Despite knowing this, I found myself saying, “Let’s go.”

8

Zain and I walked along the main road for a few minutes in silence. We passed small independent stores selling trinkets and gift cards, an organic supermarket, and a Mexican restaurant. I didn’t know what to say, not now that my accusations had been brushed off. I stole a glance at Zain, who was looking ahead, his jaw strong and tight, like he was holding back saying something.

I gazed straight ahead, too, trying to hold my nerve, until I couldn’t anymore. “Where exactly are we going?” I asked.

“An arcade. It’s around the corner. You down?” he asked.

I side-eyed him and was met with a small smile. God, he was confusing. “Why?”

“Why not?”