Page 35 of Death, Interrupted

“I want to. You invited me over, so I want to pay for dinner.”

She studied me, eyes steady. “This is still not a date.” There was a hint of defensiveness in her voice, which I didn’t judge her for.

It stung a little, but I kept my smile because I respected her decision. “I know. Just friends.”

She nodded. “Just friends.”

When she said it, it didn’t land as convincingly as she wanted. I didn’t call her out on it, though. I wasn’t going to push her into feelings she wasn’t ready for. I had hope—maybe too much of it at times—but I wasn’t going to use it to hurry her. Going slow was smarter. Everything I felt already was very overwhelming to me, and I didn’t want to ruin the first good thing I’d had in a long time by overdoing it.

We scrolled menus until we agreed on sushi andnoodles. While we waited for the food to arrive, we picked a movie to run as background noise. Our conversation felt real, and when the food finally came, we simply kept it going. There hadn’t been one moment in which either of us felt forced to say something, and even moments of silence felt good.

The longer we sat there, the more she relaxed. Her shoulders dropped. Her voice sounded lighter. She leaned back into the cushions and tugged the blanket up over her legs.

Seeing her calm and comfortable in her own space mattered to me more than anything else tonight. I wanted to keep giving her nights that felt like this.

Time slid, and around eleven, she sat a little straighter and tightened her hands on the blanket. “It’s late.”

I nodded, reading between the lines. “Yeah, it is.”

I pushed up from the couch and folded the blanket I’d used and set it on the armrest the way she had it before. I stacked our empty plates, carried them into the kitchen, and rinsed them.

“You don’t have to do all that,” she said, frowning at me.

I wasn’t going to argue with her about being a decent human being. I came back for the glasses. “Are you still drinking?” I asked, nodding at hers.

“Uh…” She looked genuinely thrown by the small help, and it made me hate Joey all over again. “No, I’m done.”

I picked up her glass too, carried both to the sink, and set them down gently before I turned back to her. She stood and came a step closer. The frown softened. I knew what that look meant. She wasn’t used to anyone doing things for her without a price. She wasn’t used to a man who didn’t treat her as a worker instead as a mutual. My fingers twitched, and I wanted to cup her face and promise that this was different, but she’d set a rule. No touching unless she asked, so I slid my hands into my hoodie pocket and kept them there.

When the tightness in her mouth finally eased, her lips curved into a small smile. “Thanks for today. I had a good time.”

“Me too,” I said, matching her smile. “Thank you for letting me come over.”

“Of course.” Her voice got smaller. “We should do it again sometime. Have dinner and talk, I mean.”

“I’d love to.”

“Great.”

“Perfect.”

Color rose in her cheeks. She turned toward the door before the shyness could win, and I followed, giving her enough space.

“Are you going to stay up late tonight?” I asked. “Do some more editing?”

“I’m not sure. I’m a bit tired,” she said. “What about you?”

“I promised my followers a livestream tonight, so I’ll go live for a few hours.”

Something lit in her eyes. Curiosity, maybe a little excitement. “Can I watch it?”

“Of course,” I said gently. “I’ll send you the link once it’s up.”

“Cool.” She bit her bottom lip and tilted her head. “You really don’t mind if I watch?”

“Why would I mind?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you don’t want me to. Joey said gaming was something intimate to him, and that if I watched, it wouldn’t be the same.”