Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(60)

Can we explain this embrace to Corporate?

I don’t know.

I don’t know, but right now, I’m banking on the fact that no one sees us.

Baylee shifts my hand to the nape of her neck. “Right there.”

I massage the spot, adding deeper pressure, and she oozes against my body. The corners of my lips pull upward. “You’re easy to please.”

She stiffens. “Tell that to all the other guys.”

All the other guys. “Sure, give me their names and cell numbers. I’ll track them down.”

Baylee steps away, just to turn and face me. Head tilted.

I clutch her waist, drawing her back to my chest. “Put two shit emojis next to the ones that called you a corpse.” My voice is easygoing, not malicious or sharp.

“No.” Bay tries hard not to smile. “Be serious.”

“I’m completely, heartbreakingly serious. If you can’t be with me, I’m going to interview all the assholes who have a shot with you.”

“Really?” Her lips try desperately not to lift.

The food line moves. I step forward and walk her backwards. “You don’t think I will?”

“You don’t even do small talk. You usually toss a peppermint at people and walk away.”

“Tell me that’s not better than a how are you?”

She smiles into a headshake. “So not the point.”

“It’s definitely a point.”

My arms return to her shoulders.

And her arms snake around my waist. “You’d really interview potential boyfriends of mine?” Her face scrunches at the thought. “What would you even ask them?”

I raise my brows. “Boyfriends? As in plural?”

“I heard it’s better to date around.”

“From who?”

“Cosmopolitan. Aunt Lucy. Friends, the television show.”

I’ve seen a few episodes because of Katya. My brows furrow. “Pretty sure Rachel and Ross were meant to be together from the start.”

“Pretty sure they had to date around in order to realize that they were meant to be together.”

My head spins. “They’re not even close to being us. You know that?” We’ve always had feelings for each other. We didn’t willingly break apart. Someone ripped her out of my arms. It’s not like we chose to move on. We had to.

We have to.

Eventually.

“I know. God, I know.” She sighs a heavy breath.

What would I ask her potential boyfriends? “You know what I’d ask them?”

“What?” she wonders, understanding the shift in topic.

“I’d ask them if they love you. And if they hesitate to say yes, even for a second, I’d tell them to get a life somewhere far, far away from you.”

Baylee inhales and rises on her toes, her hand crawling up my back. “I think…”

“Yeah?” I whisper, both of us eyeing each other’s lips.

Affection flows through her features. I see the I love you before she starts to say, “I—”

“What’d you two like?” the food truck dude asks.

We flinch and break apart. Baylee rotates fully and my hands drop from her shoulders.

We’ve made it to the front of the line. We both swallow at the same time.

While she scrutinizes the menu, I check our surroundings. No one looks familiar to me. No Aerial Ethereal employees. Just some bickering families and couples with strollers and crying babies.

I glance back at the menu that consists of jerk wings, oxtail, curry chicken, rice and peas, fried plantains, and chicken, beef, and veggie patties.

She acts like it’s a tough choice, but she’s the kind of person that tries the same exact food in different locations. I know her decision before she says it.

“A beef patty,” Baylee orders, already fishing out some money. “Oh and…curry chicken with rice and peas, fried plantains. Two orders of those.” She’s stocking up her fridge for later.

When she finishes, the cook acknowledges me.

I ask Bay, “What’s your second choice to eat for lunch?”

“Jerk wings.”

“I’ll take the jerk wings,” I tell the guy, handing him my cash before Baylee pays.

She doesn’t protest, probably not wanting to hold up the line. We stand off to the side while they prepare our order, and I immediately read her features that say: you can’t keep paying for me.

“You can’t keep paying for me,” she says matter-of-factly, slipping her cash back in her wrist wallet.

“Look, we’re technically not together.”

“Right,” she says, “you just made my point.”

“But,” I continue. “You gotta wait for my but, Bay.”

She gives me a look. “Did you just make a pun?”

“Did I?” I give her the same face.

She laughs and then groans at the sound and rolls her eyes at herself. “That wasn’t even funny.”

I stuff my hands in the pockets of my black sweatpants; my casual attitude a trait I can’t shake. “Some part of you thought it was.”

“The part that’s infatuated with you,” she says, blasé.

I raise my brows. “A lot of my body parts are just as infatuated with you.”