So what the hell is this?
I lean back against the counter, watching her with what appears to be way too much amusement for her liking because she full on growls at me.
“Did you just flinch?”
She snorts under her breath.“No.”
“You did.”
“Joel,” she says my name with far too much exasperation and it makes me grin.
“Anna.”
Her name feels way too good in my mouth.
She exhales sharply, nostrils flaring.“You are so goddamn infuriating.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”
Something in her eyes flickers, but she’s already moving, already retreating to the fridge.Because of course she is.Classic Anna move—make it seem like she’s in control when we both know she’s two seconds away from combusting.
She yanks open the fridge with a little too much force, stares into it like she’s hunting for a solution to her problems next to the oat milk.
“You didn’t have to run out, you know,” I say, my voice low.
She goes still.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do.”I keep my voice even, watching her shoulders tighten.“You left before I finished.”
“So?”
“So… you don’t run, Anna.”I tilt my head, watching her process.Watching her brain work.“At least, you didn’t used to.”
She lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking her head.“You think you know me?”
I don’t answer right away.
And that hesitation is dangerous.
Because yeah, I do.
At least, if the past is any indication.
I know that she sleeps curled up on her side because she thinks it’s the most efficient way to conserve heat.
I know she hates surprises but loves puzzles, which is kind of the same thing, if you think about it.
I know she overthinks and overanalyzes everything.
And I know she’s lying through her damn teeth right now.
“You don’t,” she says before I can get a word in.
She moves to step past me, but at the last second, she hesitates.Just for a fraction of a second—like she’s reconsidering.Then she squares her shoulders, brushing my arm as she walks by.
I should let her go.