Page 151 of Playing With Fire

“We are perfectly capable of ordering an Uber.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

“Then why do I need a car?”

“Because it’s Halloween in Chicago and you’ll both be drinking.”

“Maybe.”

He gives me a look.

“Fine. Probably.”

“I’ll get you a driver.”

“You know you don’t have to arrange transportation every time I leave the apartment.”

“I know.”

“Yet you keep doing it.” I roll my eyes.

“I just need to make sure you’re safe, Laney.” There’s enough seriousness beneath the words that I don’t tease him this time. I don't know all the details, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with his parents.

He’s like this with everyone and feels this need to play the role of protector. I try not to fool myself into thinking it’s anything more, but I agree all the same. “I will.”

He nods, satisfied, then reaches for the remote. “What are you dressing up as?”

I glance over. The question is entirely too casual. “Why?”

“Making conversation.”

“You hate making conversation.”

“With most people.”

That catches me for half a second. He keeps his eyes on the television like he didn’t just say it.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s twice you’ve hmm’d me today. Use your words.”

His mouth curves. “Send me a picture when you figure it out.”

“Why?”

This time he looks at me. “So I know who I’m looking for in the police report.”

I roll my eyes and settle deeper into the couch.

Instead of turning the volume back up, Bishop glances toward the kitchen. “You hungry?”

“Always.”