Loving A Moretti - THE OBSESSION

Chapter SIXTEEN

By Tuesday afternoon, I had started thinking about Larkin’s number.

It was a stupid thing to get stuck on, considering everything else that had happened between us. We’d kissed twice, held hands, spent hours talking, and I still couldn’t text him when I wanted to.

I could find him through social media, technically, but that felt different. I didn’t want another accidental way of reaching him. I wanted his number.

The thought stayed with me while I wandered through the city that afternoon, eventually leading me to a small plaza a few blocks from a row of shops I’d never bothered exploring before.

I sat on one of the benches with a bottle of water between my hands, watching people pass through the plaza.

My phone stayed in my bag.

For once, I wasn’t checking it.

“Are you stalking your own phone?”

I looked up.

Larkin stood a few feet away, one hand holding a paper bag and the other tucked into his jacket pocket.

I smiled. “Maybe.”

His gaze dropped briefly toward my bag before returning to my face.

“Should I be worried?”

I shrugged. “Only if you think you’re interesting enough to stalk.”

His mouth curved. “I’d like to think so.”

I smiled. “We’ll see.”

He came closer and nodded toward the empty space beside me. “Can I?”

I moved my bag aside, and he sat down.

For a moment, we simply watched people moving through the plaza. Sneakers scraped against the pavement, someone laughed near the fountain, and the smell of grilled food drifted over from a nearby cart. A bus groaned at the intersection, followed by the sharp ring of a bike bell.

“Lunch?” I asked, nodding toward the paper bag in his hand.

“Technically.”

I checked the time. “It’s four.”

“I forgot.”

“You really do forget to eat.”

A faint smile crossed his face. “You actually paid attention.”

“Somebody has to.”

He laughed softly.

I looked down at my hands before saying what had been on my mind since I left the apartment.

“We should exchange numbers.”

He went still.

I smiled. “What?”

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

I held out my hand. “Give me your phone.”

He placed it in my palm. I entered my number, saved myself as Isabelle, then handed it back.

Larkin glanced at the screen before calling me. My phone rang inside my bag.

I pulled it out.

I smiled at the name on the screen. “Now I have you.”

His eyes met mine. “Yeah.”

There was something about the way he said it that made me pause, but his expression had already softened into a smile.

I slipped my phone back into my bag.

“So now you can actually reach me.”

“I could before.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Social media doesn’t count.”

“It counts a little.”

“Barely.”

He laughed.

We stayed longer than either of us had planned, moving from work to music to food and eventually to the notebook I’d bought earlier. At some point, Larkin asked whether I’d finally found a coffee I liked.

I laughed. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“You complained about it for five minutes.”

“Five minutes?”

“Maybe three.”

I smiled. “You really pay attention.”

“I listen.”

The answer was simple enough that I didn’t know what to say to it.

Eventually, he asked if I wanted dinner.

I said yes.

We found a small restaurant nearby and spent the next two hours talking. Knowing I could reach him afterward made sitting across from him feel less temporary somehow.

When we finally left, we walked toward my neighborhood.

At the corner before my building, I stopped.

“This is me.”

It wasn’t. My actual building was farther down the street, but Larkin only nodded.

He didn’t ask which one.

“I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Larkin.”

“Goodnight, Isabelle.”

I walked away.

This time, I didn’t check the street behind me.

I went inside, locked the door, and pulled out my phone. His name was already in my contacts.

I opened our conversation and stared at the empty message box for a moment.

Then I typed.

ME: Home.

His reply came almost immediately.

LARKIN: Good.

I smiled before typing again.

ME: Goodnight.

A few seconds later, his reply appeared.

LARKIN: Goodnight, Isabelle.

I set my phone down.

I had chosen to give him my number.

And now I was the one who had used it.

If I wanted to see Larkin again, I could simply ask.