Page 98 of Things We Left Behind

“It’s cool, baby. It don’t matter what day it is because you’re hot and I’ve got buttered noodles coming.” He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a half-­eaten brownie. “You wanna share the rest of this edible?”

“No, I don’t. Did you drive here, and if so, do you remember hitting any people-­shaped objects?”

His giggle was so high-­pitched I almost didn’t hear thebuzzing of my phone in my bag. I pounced on it, grateful that Stef was calling me early with his fake emergency.

But it wasn’t a call from Stef. It was a text. From Lucian.

Lucian:Is Massimo husband material?

Massimo put his chin in his hands. “Oh, hey, listen. I, like, forgot my wallet, and my mom totally withheld my allowance this week because I accidentally set the basement on fire. You don’t mind picking up the tab, do you? Oh, and I need you to drive me home.”

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have even replied to Lucian’s text, let alone allowed the man the tiniest glimpse into my personal life. But this was an emergency.

Me:He’s not even adult material. Thinking about setting a fire in the ladies’ restroom and making a run for it. I’m not going to survive until Stef’s fake emergency.

Lucian:Where are you?

My heart skipped a beat.

Me:Vino Italiano. Why?

Lucian:Stay there.

Stay there? As in stay here with Massimo the Mooch?

I glanced up from my phone. “Is your real name Massimo?”

He let out another guffaw. “Nah. It’s actually Eugene. You can call me Euge. You know. Pronounced like the Pittsburgh ‘huge’? Mom thought I’d get more chicks as a Massimo.”

“Your crunchy soup, sir,” the server said, setting down a bowl of soup filled with at least nine packs of crushed-­up saltines.

“Cool, man. I’ll make sure this pretty lady with the awesome rack tips well. What’s your name again?” he asked me. “S Loan?”

“Oh my God. Okay, that’s it,” I said, throwing my napkin down on the table.

“If you’re going to punch him, can you try not to get any blood on the tablecloth?” the server asked me. “The last couple that sat here was on a blind date too, and she dumped an entire bottle of wine over his head. I’m out of fresh linens.”

The bell on the door jingled, and in strode Lucian Rollins, looking just as beautiful as he had when I left him less than an hour ago.

Every woman in the place, including the lesbian couple and the ninety-­second birthday attendees in the corner, stopped what they were doing and stared.

I too fell under his spell as he swept toward me. His eyes were all silver fire. His mouth was pressed in that mean, firm line that made women vie for a smile. His coat today was charcoal gray and billowed behind him like a superhero cape. His trousers were a lighter gray and fit extremely well in the crotch. I hadn’t noticedthatat the prison.

“Man, these guys make a good crunchy soup,” Euge said through a mouthful of saltines.

“Huh?” I said, not bothering to tear my eyes away from Lucian.

“Sloane,” he greeted me with that gravelly rasp.

“Hi.”

Euge turned and found himself face-­to-­crotch with Lucian.

“Your pants look expensive,” Euge announced to the entire restaurant.

Lucian shot me a smirk.

“Don’t you smirk at me. Apparently his mother made his profile.”