One of Those Faces (29)

“And from what I know, I like,” he continued.

I wasn’t sure exactly what I felt about him yet. I hadn’t liked anyone in years, not since Danny.

“I lied to you, you know,” he said, smugly taking another drink. “I didn’t come by the studio only to pick up Jeremy’s shitty art last night.”

I smirked. “Yeah, I figured.” Although I was pretty sure he got more than he was expecting.

He glanced around the restaurant. “This place is a little louder than I thought it’d be. Do you want to get out of here? I can make something for us back at my place.”

Something in his voice melted away the remainder of my defenses. Those barriers had taken years to build and all it took to level them to the ground was a handsome man showing interest. “Are we talking real food or PB&Js?”

He laughed. “Believe it or not, I can actually cook.”

Another reason to lean into whatever this was between him and me. “Okay. You have my interest.”

“Well, now I feel like I may have oversold my skills.” He grabbed his wallet, fished out a few dollars, and placed them by his empty coffee cup.

A waiter lazily slouched by the bar glanced at us as we stood up from the table.

As we approached the door, a girl walked past the window. Seeing her face sent a chill through me. My face. I rushed out ahead of Iann to the sidewalk in a trance. I took a few steps toward her as she walked away. I opened my mouth to call out to her.

“Hey! Is everything okay?” Iann asked, appearing by my side.

My eyes snapped away from the girl’s bouncing brunette ponytail, and I turned to face him. “Nothing, I—thought I saw someone . . . I know.”



By the time we arrived at Iann’s apartment, I’d nearly forgotten about the girl. I felt so light, walking through downtown with his hand in mine.

Leo was another welcome distraction. He pawed at my lap as I sat at the bar, and then he dug at the hem of my pants where most of Woodstock’s fur had gathered. Iann’s place was much bigger and cleaner than mine but smaller than Erin’s. There were absolutely no decorations, just a TV, sofa, and wood kitchen table with mismatched chairs.

“Nice place,” I said. “How long have you lived here?”

“A little over a year now.”

I gestured to the empty eggshell-white walls. “Why is everything so . . . bland?”

He laughed. “I guess it is. I don’t know, I usually only sleep here and take the dog out, so I guess this is good enough for me. And every other semester, I get a new roommate, so there’s really no point in putting my stuff all around.” He walked around the counter. “Do you want coffee?”

“Do you have beer?”

“Always.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a dark bottle and slid it to me across the counter. He closed the fridge and walked toward me with his own bottle.

I took a swig of the beer before setting it back on the granite. “So, what are we eating?”

Iann placed his bottle next to mine. “What are your thoughts on pasta?”

“Edible. Delicious.”

He smiled. “Fantastic. The bar is pretty low if we’re just shooting for ‘edible.’” He opened the pantry and pulled out a box of angel-hair pasta and walked to the fridge, extracting a small carton of heavy cream and bacon.

“I hope you have a plan . . .”

He grabbed two pots from under the oven and placed them on the front burner. “Don’t worry. I make this all the time.”

For who? Surely he didn’t make rich pasta dishes for himself all the time.

I stood beside him as he emptied the heavy cream into one of the pots and filled the other with water before replacing it on the burner.

As the cream began to simmer, he opened a cabinet and pulled out a handful of spice containers, then sprinkled each into the pot and stirred.

“Is that cayenne pepper?” I asked as the small red dots disappeared into the sauce.

He nodded, filling the spoon in his hands with the cream and then bringing it to his lips. His eyes lit up. “This is amazing. Do you want to try?”

“Uh, sure.”

He extended the spoon toward me.

It was amazing. The salt and spice blended perfectly with the creamy texture.

“Well?” Iann set the spoon on the counter.

This was all straying away from casual and right into romantic territory. But I didn’t want it to stop. Instead of answering, I leaned forward, and my lips met his. I could taste the hint of ground black pepper on his tongue.

I gripped his shoulders, the heat of his mouth warming my entire body. His muscles tightened under my fingers as he lifted me onto the counter, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

I opened my eyes for a moment, and my body tensed. My mirror image was reflected back at me through the glass cabinet door beside us. I had managed to put the image of that girl I saw outside the restaurant from my mind.

Iann pulled away after a moment, sensing my sudden rigidity. “Is everything okay?”

I quickly looked away from my reflection. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just . . . I think I’m hungrier than I realized.”

He laughed. “Right. I owe you an edible dinner. If we keep going like this, everything’s going to burn.” He helped me down from the counter and quickly attended to the boiling pot of water.