Page 56 of Detectives in Love

There’s a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. I wonder if wine makes him a little fizzy too.

We move to the living room, set down our plates and glasses, drag the coffee table closer, and settle onto the couch. I pick up the remote and flip on the TV.

“Okay, here are my picks—A Walk to Remember,Lucky Number Slevin, andP.S. I Love You,” I say, scrolling through the queue. “We’ve seen most of the others. And I’m not in the mood for horror, fantasy, or anything made in the last decade.”

Xavier stays quiet, so I glance over at him.

“Pick whatever you want,” he says, watching me like I’ve said something fascinating. “I don’t really care.”

My skin prickles under his gaze. “You sure? You usually care a lot.”

His eyes linger on me a beat too long. “Not tonight.”

“Okay,” I say, my throat suddenly dry. “Lucky Number Slevinit is.”

I press play, feeling his eyes still on me, and I can almost hear the gears turning in his head. Whatever he’s thinking about, he keeps it to himself.

While the movie loads, I stab a hefty chunk of chicken with my fork and shove it into my mouth. And—holy hell. The fricassee’s even better than it looks. I’ve never tasted anything like it—creamy, fresh, savory, tangy—it’s incredible.

“Xa-vier,” I mumble around a mouthful, turning to look at him. “You’re a liar. You—”

“Try not to choke, Newt,” Xavier cuts in with a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“—you can actually cook!”

“I told you I can,” he says, smirking. “How else do you think I keep all these muscles?”

“I figured you just ate out all the time.”

Xavier blinks, like he’s turning that over. Then his smile goes crooked, a tipsy glint sparking in his eyes. “Well, I do love eating out. So if you want, I can do that too.”

There’s mischief in his voice. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

I stare at him, stunned, my face going up in flames. Did he really just say that? Was he flirting with me? Am I reading into it? Because there’s no way he knows whateating outmeans—at least notlike that.Not between guys. Right?

I look away and stab at the chicken again, trying to play it cool. “This is seriously good,” I mumble, praying he can’t see how red I am.

“Don’t get used to it,” Xavier snorts—but he sounds a little too pleased. “Special occasions only.”

I throw him a quick look. “And today’s a special occasion how?”

Xavier meets my eyes for a second. Then says, a bit too fast, “I’m making up for last night. For all the bruises you got.”

I smile, still flushed. “That’s very sweet of you.”

And then—before I even realize what I’m doing—I reach out and brush a curl off his forehead.

Xavier quickly looks away, and I swear his cheeks go red.

He takes a long sip of wine, grabs his plate, and focuses on the screen like his life depends on it.

***

Turns outLucky Number Slevinis actually a pretty solid thriller, so Xavier and I end up watching it in near-total silence. But as soon as it ends, Xavier starts ranting about how stupid the criminals’ scam name was.

“‘Kansas City Shuffle’? What does that even mean?”

We’re both pretty drunk by now, down to our last bottle of wine, and I really don’t want to call it a night—so I put onA Walk to Remember.