Infatuation

I knew more about her for never having spoken to her. We didn't need to. Because the way she looked at me sometimes, that said it all. She wanted me. She didn't mind that I'd stop by her apartment late, or that I'd watch her sleep, buried under her gray blanket, while the stars strung around her room blinked on and off to the rhythm of her breathing.

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21. Adam

Avery didn't look afraid. She just stared at me, then after a few minutes of silence, said, "You killed that woman? There's absolutely no way. You must have had a dream after it happened."

She reached out and took my hand, squeezing my fingers. She didn't believe me. She thought I was making this up. I almost laughed.

I screwed up my face so that my expression looked pained. Then I said in a quiet voice, "I hope so."

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