The Burning Shadow (Origin 2)

Why would Luc pick a place that discriminated against Luxen?

Then again, I wasn’t exactly surprised by that.

Opening the door, I was immediately surrounded by the drool-worthy scent of fried meat and onions, a combination that only worked in diners. Holding my purse, I scanned the round tables in the middle as I stepped forward. I didn’t see him. What if he wasn’t here yet? What if—

There.

I saw Luc.

The fact that all I needed to see was a little bit of his hair over the red vinyl booths and knew it was him made me want to throat punch myself. Ugh. Crushes were stupid.

I cut around a tableful of kids and started toward the back of the diner. To the right of where he sat, a TV was on, broadcasting some news station.

Luc didn’t look up as I approached the table. He was focused on something on his phone. “Peaches,” he said. “Even in this place full of grease, I can still smell peaches.”

Brows knitting, I slid into the booth across from him, placing my bag beside me. “You do realize how weird that is, your fascination with peaches?”

“It’s not my fascination with peaches. It’s my fascination with the Peaches. You. Is that creepy?”

“Yes,” I said, drawing the word out while this horrible part of me that existed deep, deep inside got kind of … giddy.

“I also don’t care that it’s weird. I’m living my best life over here.” He finally looked up then, and I … God, my breath did this little catch thing. Those eyes. The violet color was startling, no matter how many times I saw them. He was—

“Extraordinarily handsome? So much so that you find yourself wondering how such a perfect specimen could be sitting in front of you?”

My jaw unhinged as heat infused my cheeks.

“So hot that you almost can’t believe I’m real?” he continued. “I know. I have a hard time believing I’m real, too.”

“That is not—”

He leaned in, resting his chin on his palm. A lock of wavy hair fell forward, brushing his brows. “That’s not what you’re thinking?”

I sucked in a shrill breath. I was not thinking that exactly, but yeah, some sort of variation. “Get out of my head, Luc.”

He chuckled under his breath.

My eyes narrowed. “Do I need to remind you that you said you wouldn’t read my thoughts? We’ve only had this conversation a million times.”

“I said I would mostly not read your thoughts. And like I’ve said before, sometimes you’re so loud there’s no stopping it.” He shrugged as his gaze flickered over my shoulder. “About time. I’m thirsty.”

An older woman appeared, placing tall sodas in front of each of us, along with straws. “Two Cokes.” She winked at Luc. “Your orders will be out shortly.”

I waited until the waitress left and then leaned forward. “Aren’t you worried about being here since they’re anti-Luxen?” I asked. I couldn’t tell an Origin apart from a Luxen, so I doubted the owners of Walkers could. And I doubted they’d see a difference between the two even if they knew. Luc wasn’t wearing contacts. If a RAC drone roamed in here, the poo would hit the fan.

One side of his mouth kicked up. “Do I look worried?”

“No. You look pompous and arrogant.”

The smirk spread into a grin. “I think those are two great looks on me.”

“Pompous looks good on no one, dude,” I replied dryly. “And just FYI, I wasn’t thinking about you being hot.”

That was, in fact, a total lie.

Luc grinned as he arched a brow.

Oh my God, he was doing it again. “Luc—”

“I ordered you a bacon cheeseburger, no tomato and no pickles,” he interrupted, picking up one of the straws.

Completely thrown off guard, I started to ask how he knew I didn’t like pickles or tomatoes on my burgers, but then it hit me. “I didn’t like them then, either?”

His gaze flicked to mine and then away. “No. You liked to eat them separately. Garden tomatoes—”

“Cut up and with salt?” I whispered.

Those eyes met mine again. “Yes. Pickles were okay as long as—”

“They aren’t on anything.” Sitting back, I dropped my hands into my lap. “Wow.”

A long moment passed. “So, you wanted to see me? I know you miss me even though it was just last night you were snuggled up against me.”

“I was not snuggled against you.” Was I? I honestly didn’t recall. He’d been gone when I awoke this morning.

He shoved the straw into my drink. “You were wrapped around me like an octopus.”

I glared at him.

“By the way, just going to remind you that you told me last night you missed me.”

I had. “I must’ve been high.”

“On my presence.”

Snorting, I picked up the straw wrapper and started folding it into tiny squares. “I texted you because we need to talk about Brandon.”

“Who is that?” He sat back.