Restless Night (Insomniac Duet 1)

“Sounds nice. I lost some family and would give anything to spend time with them again.”

Just like that, I bring us right back into sad territory. Not that my life is sad. I make the most of what I have. Spend time with Mom, Harold, and Trina—my stepfather and stepsister—when able. I see my aunt Leanne more often, though. She reminds me so much of Dad.

The server steps up to the table and surveys our empty plates. After stacking the plates on his arm, he lays the check facedown on the table. “They’ll cash you out up front.” Then he walks off.

I go for the check, but Micah beats me to it. “It was my idea to come here. I’ll pay.”

The notion unsettles me. Only because it makes tonight seem more like a date and not two coworkers grabbing a bite to eat after work. And this was not a date.

“That’s nice of you, but I don’t mind paying for myself.”

He scoots to the edge of the booth and rises. “Look, you’re independent. I get it. But it’s okay to let people buy you a meal every now and then.” He starts for the register near the door. “It’s the least I can do after my episode earlier.”

I don’t want to fight with him. Not after we have spent the last hours cordial. “Fine.” I cave. “But only if I get to tip the server.”

“Deal.”

While Micah pays, I toss a stack of bills on the table. I wave to the server and head for the exit, Micah on my heels. Feels like his eyes are on my ass, but I don’t check.

He walks me to my car. The air thicker as we approach and I dig the fob from my purse with shaky hands. My throat drier than burned toast as I swallow. My teeth clack together as I press the unlock button.

This isn’t a date. And we aren’t technically friends. So why the hell am I so fidgety?

Tonight ends with us both getting in our cars and driving away. Alone.

There will be no affectionate exchanges. No kisses or promises to talk later. No “I had a nice time.” or “Let’s do this again.”

None. Of. The. Above.

Yet, this still feels like the end of a date as Micah opens my car door. As he looks into my eyes, equally as confused.

He steps closer, his arm lifting up. Is he going to hug me? No. Nope. Not happening.

I move to get in the car and he drops his arm. “Glad you got some food in you. Don’t do that again.”

His eyes drop to his feet, then meet mine again. “Yeah, sure,” he says as he closes my door and I roll down the window. “Drive safe.”

“You, too.” The corners of his lips curve up slightly. “Night, Micah.”

He steps back. “Night.”

I leave Teddy’s and make it home in record time. That is the beauty of driving the highway in the middle of the night.

After I brush my teeth and dress in pajamas, I snuggle under the blanket and shut my heavy eyes. My body relaxes one limb at a time. On the verge of sleep, I hear a fire truck siren nearby and it jolts me awake. Once it passes, I wiggle in place and try to settle my alert brain.

But my brain and I are obviously not on the same wavelength. Nope. Now, my brain wants to do a minute-by-minute replay of the whole evening. What it was like to have a cordial evening with my archnemesis. To smile and laugh and share a healthy conversation. To feel something, if only for a moment, other than hate for this man.

Good thing I don’t work tomorrow. It’s going to be a long night of overanalyzing.

Stupid brain.