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Her heels strike a click-click, clickety-click on the pavement. I hear that rhythm in my dreams sometimes. She’ll never know it, but that rhythm is the bass line for “Forget You.” No one will ever know that but me, though. A man has to keep some things to himself.
Her lips quirk. “I guess you didn’t hear that part, huh?” “Well…uh, no?” “No?” She tsks. “Your eavesdropping powers are sadly lacking, Ryland.” A smile tugs at my lips. “Your voice dipped a few times. It was kind of frustrating. Maybe talk a bit louder next time?”
“I want it to be me,” I blurt without any finesse. I breathe deep and say more calmly, “I want to be the one you use.”
“It’s insanity. A total disaster waiting to happen.” “Disaster,” Rye mutters under his breath. “Come on,” I insist, feeling slightly frantic. “We’re like…like orange juice and toothpaste. Mix us together and we’re bound to walk away with a bad taste in our mouths.”
