Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3)

I drew a blank for a moment and then I laughed, remembering that time when I was so sleepy—when was I not, really—and Dylan woke me up and my hand automatically slapped him. I didn’t know anyone had noticed.

“Oh yeah, we do that for fun,” I deadpanned. “My brother likes it.”

He smiled. “Got a mean streak in you.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

He nodded. “Five sisters and five brothers. I’m the baby.”

“No way. There’s eleven of you?”

“My childhood was an adventure.”

The server came with our food, and we discovered that we were both vegetarian. He told me funny stories of how his siblings pranked him, told him to wash the dishes and sweep the floor because he was the youngest, how he never got to hold the TV remote control, and how he missed his siblings when they all grew up and left their parents’ house. And eventually he left too. We talked about what it was like to grow up as mixed babies in Canada—his ma was Filipino and his dad was African Canadian.

He was open, friendly, and we had a lot in common. We shared stories about difficult patients and the sweet, kind patients who made working in the health industry worth it. It seemed that the universe was actually listening to me for once when I asked for someone like him. He was the complete opposite of someone I had completely written off. This person I had written off wouldn’t even dream about telling me about his childhood.

“Am I boring you?” he asked.

I blinked. “Damn.

No, I’m sorry. I just…”

He had a boyish face, one that told me he had an army of family and friends and girls who absolutely adored him. His warm brown eyes invited me to tell him whatever I wanted.

“I’m a jerk, aren’t I?” I asked.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? I won’t tell. Scout’s honor.” He made the three-finger salute.

I stabbed a sushi piece with my chopsticks, chucked it in my mouth. What was the harm? He was a stranger and he looked trustworthy enough, although… “I have this…friend,” I started.

He nodded, smiling, his eyes shrewd. “I like these ‘I have this friend’ hypothetical things.”

I gave him a dry look. “It’s really my friend.”

“Uh-huh. So this friend is a lady?”

“Yeah, and she met a man.”

“Sounds like something I’m expert in.”

“Expert? You get friend-zoned a lot, don’t you?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Ouch. But we’ll talk about me next time. This is your moment. Take center stage, please.”

Please. I knew someone who never said please, except for that night.

“Have you ever cared about somebody you really hated a lot? The more you hate them, the more you want them? And you pretend you’re fine, but deep inside, you know you’re really not? Have you ever cared about someone so much that you just want to push them off a cliff?”

“Hmm. I can’t really say for sure I’ve experienced this phenomenon.” He set down his chopsticks. “Should I be worried? Do you need help?”

“Not me. My friend.”

“Oh, yes. Sounds like your friend really cares about this man.”

“Maybe. Right now, she wants to kill him, but she can’t even tell him because he’s not around. He just…left.”

“Where is he?”