The Reckless Collision

Chapter Twenty

"I got here early," he replied, holding up his cup. "Just coffee for me now. And, as usual, you're late."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not late—you're early. Big difference."

He laughed, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Fair enough. Chicago was good, by the way. Thanks for asking."

I blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "How was Chicago?"

He leaned back, cradling his coffee like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "Cold. Boring. You'd hate it."

"Sounds about right," I said, though my mind was already wandering.

"You seem distracted," he said, studying me with a little too much intensity.

"No, just...thinking."

"About?"

I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to open that door. Instead, I forced a smile. "Nothing important."

Scott didn't press, but the way his gaze lingered made me uneasy. I took another bite of my sandwich, focusing on the sounds of the city around us—the hum of traffic, the murmur of conversations from nearby tables.

"My dad had gotten sick, so I went to visit him," Scott said, his tone casual as he sipped his coffee.

I set my sandwich down, realizing I didn't have much of an appetite. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Is he okay now?"

He nodded, scratching his chin absentmindedly. "Yeah, he's fine. What about you? What have you been up to?"

I shrugged and took a small sip of my coffee. "Not much, really," I said. "I'm actually leaving Los Angeles in a week."

Scott leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His sharp green eyes locked onto mine. "Where are you headed?"

"A few places, mostly in Europe," I replied, rolling my shoulders in an attempt to appear casual. "You know I've been planning this trip for a while."

"Going alone?" he asked, glancing at my plate. "Are you going to finish that?"

I pushed the sandwich toward him. "It's all yours. And yes, I'm going alone. Molly's moving to Vancouver, so it's just me now."

Scott picked up the sandwich and took a bite, his tone playful as he offered, "I could come with you if you want some company."

"That's sweet, really, but I want some time to myself," I said carefully, the lie pressing against my tongue like a weight.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you always alone?"

I decided to shift the topic. "What happened to your hair?" I asked, gesturing at his jet-black dye job.

He smirked, brushing a hand through it. "My cousin dyed it for me. You don't like it?"

"I wouldn't say that," I said, hesitating. "It's just... different."

"I went to the game the other night—"

I tuned him out as my gaze drifted toward the street. A tall woman with sleek, black hair and long legs caught my eye. She moved with an effortless grace, and I found myself imagining her as the lead in a story I might write. She would make a stunning dancer.

"Sam!" Scott's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"What?" I asked, turning back to him.

"You're doing it again," he said, grinning.

I smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. You know I zone out sometimes."

"Yeah, I remember." He chuckled, shaking his head.