Page 154 of Graves

“Aran? Aran Graves saved you? How romantic is that?” Nahla’s mouth falls open again as she grabs her phone. “Wait… was that…?” She taps on the screen and slides it across the table. “This?”

I grimace as the subway scene plays again in front of my eyes—Aran knocking Luke out with a perfect right hook. Luke is barely recognizable, and I’m standing with my back to the camera. But seeing Aran like that…

I wasn’t fully present in that moment. Which is a shame, because damn… Aran is so hot.

“Am I right in assuming there’s more going on between you two now? Because you’re looking at him like you don’t hate him anymore.”

I can’t believe how often Aran has come up today. Every single time, my heart beats a little faster. Like I’m some lovesick teenager. For fuck’s sake, I’m twenty-seven!

I stare out the window at the intersection, kneading my lower lip. “A lot has happened,” I mutter.

“Two weeks, Koh,” Nahla says. “And you drop this insane story on me. But you know what?”

I tear my gaze away from two construction workers and turn to her. She still wears her hair in those cute little braids, pulled up into a big bun. She looks adorable.

“What?”

“I’m so proud of you!”

I frown, staring at her in disbelief.

“I mean it” she says matter-of-factly. “You finally stepped out of your own shadow and let someone in.”

“It just kind of happened,” I whisper, taking another sip.

“I don’t believe that. I’ll never forget the way Aran looked at you that night.”

“What night?”

“When we were at the bar and I came back to your place afterward. The three of us drank ouzo. Remember?”

“Ouzo.”

It hits me like a ton of bricks. I had already been pretty drunk that night and practically forced Aran to drink with us. He seemed a bit stiff afterward and disappeared into his room right away.

Am I the reason he started drinking again?

The thought won’t let go. I look at Nahla, alarmed.

“He was already into you back then,” she says. “You were just too drunk and blind to notice.”

“Do you think I could be the reason for his relapse?”

“Huh? What makes you think that? Relapse?”

“I made him drink with us.”

“Yeah, but… oh.”

“The whole world knew about his drug problems and I still poured him a glass of ouzo. What a fucking idiot I am.”

“He could have said no.”

“Don’t try to make it sound better. I was thoughtless and insensitive. I only thought about myself the whole time.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah? Convince me otherwise.” I take a deep breath and glimpse back out at the intersection, where the construction workers are lifting a manhole cover. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. Whatever was between us is probably already over.”