Page 265 of Darling Venom
His eyes lingered on it. “Thanks.”
“You don’t sound thankful.”
“I don’t read. That’s what you’re here for. Remember?”
“You won’t suddenly catch the writer’s bug if you read one book. Somehow, I highly doubt you’re liable for a mid-life career change.”
“Mid-life? I’m in my mid-thirties.”
I scrunched my nose. “Positively geriatric.”
“I’ll remember that when you reach the big three-oh.”
The words came out casually, but holy crap, they implied we’d be something to each other eight years from now.
He listened to my stomach grumble. “Have you eaten?”
“Nope. Wanna grab some food? I know a place that makes a mean tsukemen.”
“It’s late.”
“There are restaurants still open. It’s a Friday in New York City.”
“Let’s order in.”
He led the way to the kitchen. To the overused takeout menus I’d probably memorize by heart before he ever admitted his intentions.
I deflated, shoulders slumping forward. It would be better if he were mean. If he told me straight-up that I’d get nothing from him. As it was, Tate fed me everything I wanted… except the thing I craved most.
Love.
I snatched the pizza menu from him, realizing for the first time that we never went anywhere in public. “You avoid taking me out.”
“Not true.”
I’d spoken without real heat, but he sounded defensive.
Too defensive.
Wow.
Did he really avoid taking me out?
I focused on him, cataloging his rigid posture. “Oh? Where have we been?”
“The playground.”
“Past midnight.”
“The library.”
“In the corner, where no one could see.”
“The bar.”
“You were drunk.”
“Don’t remind me.”
