Lacey

22

I SHOULD BE in my office, figuring out who wants her dead or how and why she killed her mother, but no; I'm sitting in a library on a dirty, carpeted floor. What the fuck has my life come to?

I'm reading some book about a scientist and a student falling in love—or pretending to, actually—all because Lacey asked me to with that fucking smile.

I tried to say no. I really did, but that fucking smile.

I look at her over my book. She's lying across from me on her stomach, knees bent and crossed in the air. Her long brown hair is hiding most of her face from me, but I can still see the perfect slope of her nose and the gold hoops she always wears shining through. Her ring glints in the dim fluorescent lighting. It's gold too. She wears it on her right middle finger. Her bracelet jingles as she turns the page; she must sense eyes on her because she looks up from her book too.

Her green eyes connect with mine for a couple of seconds before she smiles and puts her book down, leaving it open and facing the floor so she doesn't lose her page.

I put my book down and close it. I'd much rather look at her than some ink on a page.

She sits up and crosses her legs on top of each other, leaning against the bookcase in front of the one I'm resting my back on.

"What's your favorite color?" She asks, her voice resonating in the empty library.

"Grey," I respond.

She scoffs, "That's not a color."

"Then I don't have one," I say, "they're too bright."

She puts her hand on her heart and dramatically gasps. "Too bright? There's no such thing." I give her a deadpan look, and she laughs. I watch her perfect lips spread in a wide grin, and for a second, I forget where I am.

What the fuck is going on?

I blink away the hearts in my eyes and remind myself where I am. "Boo hoo," I deadpan.

She sends me a look before marking the page in her book and getting up. "Let's go."

I get up after her and follow her, leaving my book behind. I don't ask questions as I follow her out to the parking lot, assuming she wants me to drive her home. Still, when she rounds the car and gets into the driver's seat, I shake my head and reopen the door. "Absolutely not."

She looks up innocently at me, slowly putting on her seatbelt, as if going slowly would make me not see it. I lean into the car, my forearm on the top of the door frame, and unclick it, all while we keep eye contact. "I said no."

She smiles at me, and I feel my resolve crumbling already. "Lacey," I warn. "Out."

She sits straighter, forcing our faces even closer. "Trust me." She pulls the seatbelt again.

"It's my truck," I say, unclicking her seatbelt again.

"Please?" She tilts her head, her dark lashes batting over her big green eyes.

I roll my eyes and close the door, rounding to the passenger seat. When I sit down and buckle my seatbelt, I can feel her eyes on me. "Shut up and drive."

"Yes, sir." She nods sarcastically, pursing her lips and furrowing her eyebrows.

I see her reach for the radio out of the corner of my eye and bat her wrist away. "No."

"But—"

"I listen to music all night at work; I don't need to listen to it now," I say, sending her a pointed look.

"You don't even come in that much." She rolls her eyes and reaches for the radio again.

I bat her wrist again, her bracelet jingling. "I go enough."

She sighs. "You're no fun," and taps her hands on the wheel to a beat. My annoyance flares. "Lacey," I warn, sending her a pointed look.

"What?" She asks innocently, keeping her eyes on the road. I grit my teeth.

I sit in the passenger seat, and I feel like an idiot being driven around by this tiny woman, but I keep quiet until she pulls onto this beach, my truck slowing drastically then stopping. She turns to me and grins, getting out of the car and running to my side to open the door before I can. "Ladies first." She says, gesturing for me to get out. I grit my teeth.

"Why are we here?" I ask, my tone annoyed.

"I want ice cream." She says, dragging me to a little shop near where we're parked. I feel out of place in my suit.

I stay quiet as she gets to the counter. "One small cookie dough ice cream, extra cookie dough, and..." she looks up at me, waiting for what I want.

"Nothing." I grumble.

"He'll have coffee flavor." She tells the man anyway. "And put it in cups, please, not cones." She smiles at him.

"5.32," the man says.

She reaches into her dress pocket where I know there's no money, but I pay before she realizes as well. "I wouldn't want to embarrass her after the couple of days she's had," I tell myself.

She thanks me, and we walk back towards the car. As we do, she looks up at me. "Try it."

"I don't eat ice cream," I grumble.

"Try it." She urges. When all I do is look at her, she smiles. "Please?" I sigh and bring the plastic spoon to my lips with a little of the ice cream on it.

It tastes like heaven on a spoon. "It's fucking disgusting."

I take another bite.

"Mhmm," she hums, still grinning and gets into the passenger seat. "Since it's so gross, I'll make up for it by letting you drive." She says sarcastically, still grinning.

I get in the driver's seat and drive us back to my place, taking a bite of the best ice cream I've ever had when we stop at red lights. "I knew you'd like it," she chuckles.

"I don't," I deadpan, dropping the bowl back into the cup holder.

She ignores me. "You just seemed like the coffee type, you know? Because there's no way you like sweet food, and they don't make spicy ice cream. Plus, you always get the same thing at the café, a black coffee and sometimes a cheese croissant. So I knew you liked coffee." She rambles.

"You know I order, Lacey?" I glance at her, a small smirk on my lips. Her grin drops. "It's not a hard order to memorize. I-I'm a waitress, you know. It's my job."

It's my turn to hum knowingly as I pull into my private parking garage.