my dad’s, but I wanted Ruiz instead so it’d be the same last name as Benny’s. I get a little closer and cover her hand with my own, trapping the medal between them. “Yeah,” I say as I untangle the leather cord from her fingers. I let out a sigh of relief. I feel as if I haven’t breathed since the medal went missing.
Her face is close to mine, and she’s staring at me. “So do you go by Chris or…”
“Christian.” I almost call her Alexandra but catch myself. “And you?”
“Mata Hari.” She laughs. “No, it’s Lexi.” She tilts her head to one side and watches as I slip the medal around my neck.
“Thanks for getting this back for me, Lexi.”
Our eyes meet.
Say goodbye. Turn around and get the hell out of here,
I tell myself. “Listen, I know this place down the block. Best doughnuts in the city. Let me buy you a couple. To say thanks properly,” I say instead.
What am I doing?
“Doughnuts?” She narrows her eyes, but her mouth turns up a little, a sexy half smile that makes my stomach turn a slow flip.
“Fresh out of the oven. The kind that sort of dissolve when you bite into them, they’re so light.” I don’t know why I’m trying to sell the idea so hard. I can’t actually get to know this girl. Besides, she’s going to say no anyway. A girl like this agreeing to go somewhere with me, a guy she barely knows? No. Never gonna happen.
“Lead the way.” She folds her arms over her chest, and that smile—it goes from playful to challenging. She knew I didn’t expect her to say yes, and now she expects
me
to wuss out.
I clench my jaw tight to keep it from dropping open. “Cool,” I say, forcing an easy
I’m totally up for this
grin, my heart suddenly jackhammering in my chest.
Way to go, genius. Now what?
I rack my brain for something to say.
“So. Who’s the dude on the medal?” she asks, beating me to it.
“It’s Saint Jude. The patron saint of lost causes,” I say.
“Is that what you are? A lost cause?” Her smile gets wider.
“Nah, I just seem to get mixed up in them.”
She takes this in, not saying anything, just giving me an appraising look as she slips her arm through mine and we step off the curb and into the street.
I walk her a couple of blocks over to my favorite place: Fried Dough. There’s nothing fancy about it, but the doughnuts are ridiculous and, best of all, cheap. We’re nearing the door when I start to smell them. She sniffs the air and closes her eyes.
“Oh wow.”
“I know. They taste even better, trust me.” Her fingers tighten on my arm, and I feel the stress of the past day—all that worry over my medal and whether the police discovered it—disappear. I’m okay. The job is over. I got the medal.
I look down at Lexi. I should order our doughnuts to go, but curiosity’s got the best of me. I want to see if she’ll tell me about yesterday. Her take on things. What it was like at the bank once we were gone.
The store is warm and thick with sugar. The air tastes sweet. I come here every time we start to case a job downtown. Something about the coziness of it is comforting, and it’s central to at least a dozen banks. In fact, the first one we hit is almost directly across the street.
We order our doughnuts—a couple of chocolate-iced ones for me, a maple bacon one for her—and settle at a table near the front window, where we can watch people walk by.
“Hey, look. They’ve got games,” she says, pointing to a basket near the door with a stack of old games inside. Chess. Scrabble. Sorry.
“Chess. Nice. You play?” I ask.
“Do you?” She looks at me all shocked.
“I’ve been known to play. When I’m not breaking hearts and stealing cars,” I joke, an edge to my voice. To a girl like her, I must look a little street, but I’m no thug. To an actual thug, I’m laughably far from it. “My grandfather taught me. He’s big into chess.”
She looks down, color rising in both cheeks. “I didn’t mean you didn’t
Her face is close to mine, and she’s staring at me. “So do you go by Chris or…”
“Christian.” I almost call her Alexandra but catch myself. “And you?”
“Mata Hari.” She laughs. “No, it’s Lexi.” She tilts her head to one side and watches as I slip the medal around my neck.
“Thanks for getting this back for me, Lexi.”
Our eyes meet.
Say goodbye. Turn around and get the hell out of here,
I tell myself. “Listen, I know this place down the block. Best doughnuts in the city. Let me buy you a couple. To say thanks properly,” I say instead.
What am I doing?
“Doughnuts?” She narrows her eyes, but her mouth turns up a little, a sexy half smile that makes my stomach turn a slow flip.
“Fresh out of the oven. The kind that sort of dissolve when you bite into them, they’re so light.” I don’t know why I’m trying to sell the idea so hard. I can’t actually get to know this girl. Besides, she’s going to say no anyway. A girl like this agreeing to go somewhere with me, a guy she barely knows? No. Never gonna happen.
“Lead the way.” She folds her arms over her chest, and that smile—it goes from playful to challenging. She knew I didn’t expect her to say yes, and now she expects
me
to wuss out.
I clench my jaw tight to keep it from dropping open. “Cool,” I say, forcing an easy
I’m totally up for this
grin, my heart suddenly jackhammering in my chest.
Way to go, genius. Now what?
I rack my brain for something to say.
“So. Who’s the dude on the medal?” she asks, beating me to it.
“It’s Saint Jude. The patron saint of lost causes,” I say.
“Is that what you are? A lost cause?” Her smile gets wider.
“Nah, I just seem to get mixed up in them.”
She takes this in, not saying anything, just giving me an appraising look as she slips her arm through mine and we step off the curb and into the street.
I walk her a couple of blocks over to my favorite place: Fried Dough. There’s nothing fancy about it, but the doughnuts are ridiculous and, best of all, cheap. We’re nearing the door when I start to smell them. She sniffs the air and closes her eyes.
“Oh wow.”
“I know. They taste even better, trust me.” Her fingers tighten on my arm, and I feel the stress of the past day—all that worry over my medal and whether the police discovered it—disappear. I’m okay. The job is over. I got the medal.
I look down at Lexi. I should order our doughnuts to go, but curiosity’s got the best of me. I want to see if she’ll tell me about yesterday. Her take on things. What it was like at the bank once we were gone.
The store is warm and thick with sugar. The air tastes sweet. I come here every time we start to case a job downtown. Something about the coziness of it is comforting, and it’s central to at least a dozen banks. In fact, the first one we hit is almost directly across the street.
We order our doughnuts—a couple of chocolate-iced ones for me, a maple bacon one for her—and settle at a table near the front window, where we can watch people walk by.
“Hey, look. They’ve got games,” she says, pointing to a basket near the door with a stack of old games inside. Chess. Scrabble. Sorry.
“Chess. Nice. You play?” I ask.
“Do you?” She looks at me all shocked.
“I’ve been known to play. When I’m not breaking hearts and stealing cars,” I joke, an edge to my voice. To a girl like her, I must look a little street, but I’m no thug. To an actual thug, I’m laughably far from it. “My grandfather taught me. He’s big into chess.”
She looks down, color rising in both cheeks. “I didn’t mean you didn’t
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