Page 34 of Meet Cute Reboot
I back up so far that my hair smashes against the driver’s side window. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“You went there?”
“Youwent there.” He alternates his arms in front of me, palms up, like two pistons. “I thought we were going there.”
“No.” I feel anxiety rising in my gut. “We weren’t.” I tug the handle, kick open the door, and hop out. “Wait,” I say after doing a little circle. “What am I doing? I’m staying. You’re leaving. No, you’re leaving and I’m staying. No.”
He’s right. I went there. And I shouldn’t have.
Luke jumps out of the car and sprints over to me.
“Hey.” He reaches out but doesn’t touch me. “I thought we were acting like old times. Sorry.”
“This isnotlike old times in any way, shape, or form.”
“I know. But we had a comfort level. I guess I still feel it, so I got too...graphic.” His arm is still outstretched.
I throw up my hands. “I’m leaving now.”
“Wait. Let me show you my house. It’s historic. You like history.”
“Some other day.” Meaning, never. I step into my car.
“I have ghosts.”
I pause and peek at him over my shoulder. Olde Towne Ghost Tours is still my main source of income. Charleston ghosts are my bread and butter. “You mentioned that before. What kind of ghosts?”
“Moany Maroney and an ectoplasmic cat.”
I set my foot back on the driveway and slowly turn. “Moany Maroney?”
“That’s what I named him. Or her. Just now actually. All I know is I hear moaning. Only at night. And there’s an invisible feral cat that meows like it’s about to tangle with a demon.”
“How old is your house?”
“It was built in 1810. I can show you around.”
Luke’s managed to pique my interest but setting foot anywhere near his bedroom seems like a bad idea.
“I better not,” I say. “We need to keep our relationship professional.” Despite my unprofessional comments just moments ago.
Luke crosses his arms and leans on my car. He mulls over my last statement and then says, “Professionally speaking, we need to plan our next date. The internet audience is waiting.”
My insides cringe. I manage to maintain a blank expression. He has a point. Unfortunately. Luke and I are trending onInstagram and it’s driving subscriptions. How...complicated. Single, independent me knows I should run away screaming, but the businesswoman in me can’t resist an opportunity to grow my subscriber base. I also can’t resist my sudden idea to get date number two over with as soon as possible.
I dig through my purse to find my phone. After climbing out of the car, I pull up Instagram and start a Live.
“Hey, fam. Cassie here. I’m just going to dive into this livestream. I don’t know if you caught my interview on I107, but if you didn’t, you can stream it on their website. Anyway, guess who’s with me?” I adjust the camera, so Luke is visible over my shoulder. His surprised expression quickly drops when he realizes he’s live.
“Hey, family,” he says slowly.
“Yeah. Like we said in our interview with Chris Sands, we decided to go on a second date. We know you guys are here for it, and so are we. This is officially date numero two.” I hold up two fingers. “Luke’s gonna show me around his house. You guys, he lives in a historic mansion. I’m not going to say where because I know you guys would stalk him.”
“Good idea,” Luke says. “Not the stalking part. That’s bad. Bad idea. But the whole not letting people know where I live. That’s good.” He dips his head next to mine, so close our cheeks almost touch. He still smells bad—an unhappy pairing of sweat and manufactured fragrance—but I feel a zing of electricity in my arm where his bumps into mine.
“Not that I don’t trust you.” Luke squints at my phone. “All fifteen of you. I totally don’t think you would stalk me because stalking is illegal. Also, you have no idea how bad I smell.”