Page 80 of One Night with Number Nineteen

“That’s obvious, Lanes,” I mutter. “Considering the last few weeks.”

So why is admitting that equal parts exciting and terrifying?

Because what I could feel for Sawyer, if I only let myself⁠—

Buzz. Buzz.

SAWYER: Are you writing The Book That Shall Not Be Written?

I laugh, my eyes going to my notebook…and the scenes I’m plotting for the rogue book that’s taken over my brain.

LAINEY: Not so much writing as plotting.

SAWYER: Good.

LAINEY: It’s not so good for the deadline I have coming up. But for my soul, it’s been great.

A dashing hero with long blond curls and a physique that rivals Greek gods. A quest for an ancient artifact that will change the world.

Dragons and black magic.

Danger and intrigue and a dark, slightly twisted plot.

Yeah, it’s going to kick ass.

Now what I’ll actually do with it…

That remains to be determined.

SAWYER: I’ll leave you to it. Don’t stay up too late, Pages.

I know if I don’t reply, he’ll leave it at that.

But I just can’t let him go—not quite yet.

LAINEY: I liked your other goal too.

A pause. Then⁠—

SAWYER: You did?

LAINEY: I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that with their skates.

SAWYER: Gray showed me how.

LAINEY: I noticed that Gray didn’t actually do that in the shootout.

He puts a laughing reaction on my text.

SAWYER: He made the safe play. I was the one pushing the limits. *a shrug emoji* I got lucky.

LAINEY: I don’t know about that.

SAWYER: I do.

I smooth my thumb over the screen as I read over his words, as they ping around in my brain, as I struggle with what to say next.

I need to go to sleep.