Second by Chantal Fernando Page B

bank, I lean forward and kiss him on his cheek, catching him off guard. “Bye. Have a good day and I’ll see you after work.”
    “What time do I come and get you?” he calls after me as I start to get out of the car.
    “Five. Do you want to go have an early dinner afterwards?” I remember that taking him out in public usually turns into a huge debacle. “Actually, never mind, we’ll order in.”
    I close the door and smile at him, then walk into my work. When I reach the doors, I chance a look back at the car to see him still there, waiting for me to go inside before he drives away. I wave at him then enter, the song still playing on my mind.
    What if?

Chapter Thirteen
    “How was work?” he asks when he picks me up.
    “Long,” I say. Especially knowing that Dean is here. All I wanted to do is get out of there so I could come home and hang out with him. “My manager said I can take a week off, no problem, so that’s good though.” I stare at his profile. “How was your day? How was your catch up with Erica?”
    “Erin,” he corrects.
    “Oh, right.”
    Who knew I could be so petty? Not me.
    “Yeah it was good. We went to the beach and had a drink and a chat,” he says casually, like he didn’t just tell me he went on what sounds like a date. Even if he had a date, I can’t exactly say anything. He’s not mine. Sure, we had an amazing kiss, and a few moments, but that’s all we have. Besides friendship and a connection, which are the perfect foundation to build a relationship on, but whatever.
    Fuck.
    Did I just think that?
    “Sounds like a fun day,” I reply, glancing out the window. I decide a subject change is in order. “I’m super hungry. What should we do for dinner?”
    “I cooked,” he says simply.
    “You cooked?” I ask, brows rising. “What did you cook? Is my kitchen still in one piece?” I tease. I remember how he’d made me fried rice the last time, and I know that he’s pretty good in the kitchen.
    He grins, dimples popping. “Of course it is, and you’ll have to wait and see. I thought you’d be tired after being on your feet all day, so I didn’t want you to have to worry about what we’re going to eat.”
    “Thanks, nice of you,” I say, wondering how a man can be so thoughtful. Ben never cooked for me. Once again, it’s messed up to compare the two, but I can’t seem to help it. They’re two different men, with different personalities and outlooks on life.
    “Well,” he murmurs, “I’m a nice guy.”
    “Yes, you are.”
    “Amnesia” by 5 Seconds of Summer plays on the radio and I mouth along to the words.
    “You know the lyrics to every song that comes on the radio,” he says, shaking his head. “Is that what you really do at work? Listen to music?”
    “Sometimes,” I admit, laughing. “When I’m working on something in my office I’ll put my earphones in and multitask, but it’s not the radio. I have different playlists on my phone depending on my mood, so I just pick one.”
    I don’t mention that one of my playlists is of all his songs, and it’s the one I listen to the most.
    “I still can’t believe you gave me this car, by the way. What did you do? Come here, buy a brand new car just for a few days then give it to me?”
    “I bought it for you,” he says, smirking. “I drove it for a few days and didn’t let you, both so you wouldn’t know it was for you and so you’d want it more, then gave it to you when I’d already left so you couldn’t try and return it.”
    “You bought me a brand new amazing car,” I say, shaking my head in astonishment. “I still have to pinch myself and remember that it’s actually mine, even after a year.”
    “It’s nothing, Sabina. You’ve been driving the same car for years, and I know you’ve always had your eyes on this one. It’s what you said you’d always buy if you got rich.”
    I grin. “I did say that, didn’t I? So because I didn’t get rich, and you did, you bought it for me?