Just when I think I’m in the clear, I hear Nora say, “Your feet are sticking out from under that sign, Landon.”
Chapter Seven
IPEEK AROUND THE SIGN to see Nora walking toward me. Her dark hair shadows her face. She looks like a villain under the fluorescent lighting in the station parking lot. She’s wearing tight black jeans with a rip in one knee, and her black bra is showing through the mesh fabric of her tank top. Is she even allowed to have a rip in her jeans while baking things for customers to consume? More important, why am I thinking about that right now?
I stand still as she approaches me, her prey, in the middle of nowhere. To be honest, the train systems here still freak me out. I can’t read the signs, I can’t stand people packing in around me like sardines, and I hate being trapped underground, but when I’m aboveground sometimes I get a little motion sick.
How the hell am I going to get back if I can’t even read the signs?
Where the hell is Scarsdale, anyway?
Nora waits for me to walk out from my “hiding” spot. “You didn’t think I knew you were following me since Lookout?” She raises a brow, studying me.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d pulled out a whip, or a sword, with the way she’s commanding her surroundings. She’s not timid, she’s enchanting, and being out in the dark night with her here only adds to the mystery of her. I feel like I’m in a movie, and her dark green eyes look nearly black instead of their normal brown-green.
Nora stops two feet in front of me and pulls her cell phone, not a sword, out of her back pocket. She quickly checks the screen and puts it away.
“I’ve taken two self-defense classes,” she begins, highlighting how terrible my spy skills are. “I saw you as soon as we turned on Nostrand. I was waiting for you to approach me.” She pauses, and her full lips turn up in a smile. “But you just kept following me. What’s up with that?”
Her hand touches my arm briefly.
She officially thinks I’m insane, or maybe she’s a little insane herself.
I rub my hand over the back of my neck and try to think of an explanation. “Well”—I nervously clear my throat—“well, I wanted to talk to you after your shift.”
“Then why didn’t you stop me? You know, instead of following me?”
“I don’t know.”
She smiles. “Yes, you do. Just say it. Just say why you followed me. I have this special ability to tell when people are lying. It’s my greatest talent, really.” Her eyes square with mine. “So, let me ask you again. Why did you follow me an hour and a half from Brooklyn to Scarsdale?”
Without even a second thought, I just begin speaking: “I wanted to talk to you hours ago when I was at your work, and I know you knew I was there, but you didn’t say hi or anything. You haven’t come by in a week. You haven’t called me or anything.”
“I don’t have your number.”
She licks her lips, and I remember what she tastes like. Her hands on me, her tongue gently caressing mine. I’m glad she can’t read my mind.
“You texted me the day we went out.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”
She contemplates. Her fingers are steady as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Okay, so what did you want to talk about?” Nora leans back against a wall and bends her knee. She’s getting comfortable before she calls me out for being creepy.
What exactly did I want to talk about? Should I tell her that I wanted to check on her? That I missed her? She claims she’ll know if I lie.
The words tumble from my mouth—“I missed you”—and Nora’s back straightens against the