Pulling my phone out of my bag, I see I have a text from my dad telling me to have a great day, followed by a bunch of emojis. I smile down at my phone and send one back.
I stop when I run into a wall. Not a wall, actually, just a very big man. My eyes travel up to Ivan’s face. His hands are locked on my shoulders, keeping me from falling on my ass. I smile even bigger now that he’s here.
“Hi,” I say, and try to move in a little closer to him. His dark eyes travel down my face to the phone in my hand.
“What was making you smile,” he finally says, nodding towards the phone. “Was it a boyfriend?” he asks as his eyes narrow. Then he begins to glance around us. “Does he go here?” That question sounds like a threat, like if there were a boyfriend, he’d take care of it.
My smile widens further. I like his jealousy so much more than I should. Now I know what it means. He likes me. I can tell from the spark in his eyes that his comment isn’t about protecting me.
“I’m smiling now because you came to have lunch with me.” He fixes his gaze on me again, no longer looking for my nonexistent boyfriend. “Before, it was my dad. He likes to send goofy messages to Pandora and me throughout the day.”
The lines around his mouth ease, and I see tension leave his body. He nods then reaches out, taking my bag from off my shoulder and my phone from my hand.
“Your lunch break isn’t long, and you must eat.” He looks over to the bench I’d told him about, and I slip my arm into his.
His body freezes for a moment, and he stares down at me, surprise on his face.
“No boyfriend,” I tell him. “Do you have a girlfriend? A wife?” I swear I stop breathing at my question.
“Net.”
I feel myself relax. I notice my reaction is the same one he had when I told him I didn’t have a boyfriend.
“I find that hard to believe,” I tease him, pulling him over towards the bench and sitting down. I take my bag from him.
“It is not hard to believe. I’ve never had a girlfriend or a wife.”
I still at his words, then drag my eyes from him and dig in my bag for my lunch. “Do you have a family, Ivan?”
“Net,” he says easily as he inputs the code to unlock my phone. I would ask how he knows the code, but I don’t. With a family that works in security, I know nothing is really private. But I don’t care about my phone right now. I’m still ruminating on the ease with which he told me he doesn’t have a family. No emotion crossed his face when he made that confession.
“I don’t have your number,” I tell him, finally getting him to look away from my phone. “What if I need you and I can’t get a hold of you.”
“I will never be far enough away from you that you could yell my name and I wouldn’t hear you.”
“But what if I want to say something to you that I don’t want anyone to hear.” I slide a little closer to him. He looks back down at the phone, and I watch him program his number in.
“You can call me anytime you like,” he says, handing me my phone back. I slide it into my bag, and I open up my lunch.
“Do you track me on the phone?” I ask.
I don’t know why I ask, because I already know the answer. But for some reason I want to hear him say he does. I think I’m losing it. Something that drove me crazy days ago is now something I want.
“Da,” he confirms, but he doesn’t seem to like his own answer. “I do not like cell phone tracking. I don’t think it works as well as others.”
I open my sandwich and try to hand him half, but he shakes his head.
“But I made it. Didn’t you like your breakfast?”
“It was the most wonderful meal I’ve ever eaten. But I will not eat your lunch. You need to eat it.”
I love his sweet answer and even feel myself blush a little that he liked my cooking. “Please. Just half a sandwich.” I give him the little pout that works on my family, and watch his eyes go wide for a second.
“If it pleases you,” he says before taking the sandwich from me. I open my container of fresh-cut apples and caramel and sit it between us.
“Are there other ways you could track me?”
His sandwich stills halfway to his mouth. “You would let me?” His eyes light up a bit, and he seems excited at the idea.