Page 32 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

Two Years Ago, September

I remind myself every day that this was what I wanted. My life is music. I cannot take more than I’m willing to give. I cannot—will not—make a promise I can’t keep.

I spent the early hours at Full Circle locked into an article that was due in two days. The re-read was painstakingly slow, but I still managed to find edits as I went.

I should’ve gone into the office today.

But I was too locked into the process and too behind schedule to change the plan.

My last sip of lukewarm Earl Grey did little to keep me warm against the chilly air as a gust of autumn wind blew through the opening front door. I fished my arms through the wool sleeves of the cardigan draped over the back of my chair, never looking up from my screen.

Dammit, another typo.

My fingers snapped back to the keyboard the second they were through the sleeves, hastily correcting the document. I chewed the inside of my cheek, eyes scanning slowly for more errors .

I barely registered the man approaching my table, thinking it to be Nolan gathering my empty mug. But when a new mug, heavy and full of brown liquid, clinked right next to the old, my brows pulled together in confusion.

“I guessed English Breakfast,” a deep voice said above my head as I stared at the steaming mug, a tea string poking over the side. “I hope that’s right.”

Scrubs Guy—Kieran—smiled one of his bright smiles down at me.

“Sorry?” I laughed, pulling my lone headphone out of my ear, certain I heard him wrong.

“The tea,” he explained, gesturing to the fresh mug.

He shifted his weight to his back foot, allowing me to get a full look at him.

“I thought English Breakfast would be a safe guess. I hope it’s okay I got you a fresh one.

” He acted politely sheepish, but not an ounce of doubt or trepidation crossed his confident expression.

“Oh!” I smiled down at the mug, then back up at him. “Thank you. That’s so sweet.” I wasn’t drinking English Breakfast. Hardly ever drank English Breakfast, in fact. But the gesture was so kind, I didn’t correct him.

“I’m Kieran,” he said, ignoring my thanks and holding his hand out to me.

I shook it, debating if I should offer him a seat across from me. But the dark blue scrubs hugging his biceps told me he would be back outside the second his coffee was ready.

“Olive.”

“Olive,” he repeated back to me, his grin spreading. “I don’t mean to be creepy. I just see you here every time I come in and thought I’d introduce myself.” His light green eyes sparked along with his thousand-watt smile .

“Don’t worry, it’s only a little creepy,” I teased. “It’s nice to officially meet you. Thank you again for the tea.”

“Order for Kieran?” Jade called, sliding a to-go cup across the black countertop. They eyed us openly, hair whipping when they snapped their head around to get Nolan’s attention. Kieran threw a glance over his shoulder, then turned back to me.

“I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime, Olive.”

I wouldn’t have been able to hide the surprise on my face if I tried. It was like I short-circuited, blinking twice in quick succession.

He’s just… asking me to dinner? Straightforward, just like that? Is this how grown-up men flirt?

I nodded. “Sure, um, yeah. I’d like that.”

“Let me get your number.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out the latest smartphone on the market.

Nolan did say he was a doctor.

I typed my number into his phone and handed it back, careful not to let it slip through my fingers. He smiled widely once more as he turned on a heel to grab his coffee and head back out into the cool air.

I tracked him out the door and down the sidewalk, mouth no doubt wide open the entire time. My phone buzzed a few seconds later—an unfamiliar number with one word in the text.

Unknown

Kieran

When I gaped at the counter, Jade and Nolan were staring back at me, eyes just as wide as mine, giving each other a sloppy high five.

That weekend, Kieran met me at a steak restaurant that was way too fancy for my usual taste. He’d promised it was the best in Boston, so I put on a tight sweater dress that I would’ve never worn in Hartwood in an attempt to look steakhouse fancy.

It was clear from the first five minutes of the date that he oozed confidence and charisma. I was honestly surprised at how interested in me he seemed, but more, how interested I was in him.

“So you work for a media company?” he asked over his gin and tonic. I tracked the movement of his tongue as he licked a drop from his bottom lip.

“Yes, technically,” I said, sipping my too-dry red wine.

When we’d ordered, I was about to tell him I wasn’t a red wine girl before he insisted I had to try it if I was eating steak.

It’s the best pairing, he grinned, trust me.

“It’s an entertainment and production company, but my focus is primarily on the music industry.

New trends, artists on the rise, that kind of thing.

I’m mostly editing for the online blog.”

“Very cool.” He nodded with so much genuine interest that it made me want to sink into my seat. It was cool, but he made it feel like the coolest thing since sliced bread.

“It has its perks. Being able to work from a coffee shop, for starters. They encourage us to immerse ourselves in music as much as possible. Concerts and album release parties and all that.”

“It must be fun getting to do your hobby for your job. Is that what you want to do forever?”

He was making small talk, but my insecurities caught the edge in his words. I reminded myself that mine was an industry most people didn’t know anything about. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was hard work .

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I love my job. It’s the only thing I see myself doing right now, and there’s room to climb. So, who knows?”

“Hmm.” He nodded.

“What about you?”

“I’m a physical therapist.”

Nolan guessed right. “That explains the scrubs.” I sipped my wine again and bit back a grimace.

“That it does. And the need for daily mid-morning coffee,” he said with a smile.

Kieran did everything right, as if he’d learned it all from a book.

He showed up to the date on time, a few minutes early, in fact.

He told me I looked beautiful when we were seated, let me order first, held conversation effortlessly, and paid for the meal.

It was the first time in my life I could say I’d been wined and dined.

Afterward, he held my hand as we walked the handful of blocks to my car.

I’d insisted on meeting him at the restaurant instead of having him pick me up because I wasn’t interested in giving my home address to a practical stranger just yet, but I was glad for the few extra minutes to chat as we walked.

“So, how long have you been single?” I asked, surprising myself.

He chuckled. “A while. But honestly, we don’t have to do the whole past-relationship breakdown thing. I know most people talk about that kind of stuff on dates, but I’m not interested in who you were before we met. I’m interested in who you are now.”

His words stunned me into silence for a beat. And for some reason, though it had been so long, Nate’s face flashed through my mind. I’m interested in who you are now. How fitting? I was more interested in who I was now, too .

And at my driver’s door, Kieran gave me an innocent kiss on the cheek, a blinding smile, and told me to let him know when I made it home safely.

The entire thing was… smooth. Suspiciously smooth.

What’s the catch?