The DM Diaries by Teagan Hunter

Author:Teagan Hunter [Hunter, Teagan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Montlake
Published: 2024-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jude

I’ll admit it—following Olive to her apartment probably isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s pretty clear I’m not in the right state of mind. At least, not when it comes to her.

Hell, I stalked her to her favorite coffee truck, for crying out loud.

Though I do think stalk is a harsh word. It wasn’t stalking, per se. I just happened to know where she’d be, thanks to Annie.

And yeah, fine, I totally ran there so I wouldn’t miss her, but still. Not stalking.

Just . . . noticing.

These are all the things I repeat to myself as I follow behind her. We don’t talk the entire time, no matter how many words I want to spew at her. I know better. If I talk, I risk her telling me to leave her alone.

And I really, really don’t want her to tell me to leave her alone.

Those few minutes we had back at the coffee truck? Those were the best minutes I’ve had in days.

I want more minutes like that, and I want them with Olive.

So I keep my mouth shut. All the way down the street, through the door to her building, and up the stairs. I don’t speak a word the entire time.

Not even when we reach her apartment—4D—and she digs around in her bag before producing a key and shoving it into the lock.

She pushes the door open, then strolls right in, leaving it open and me standing out in the hallway.

I don’t dare walk inside. Not because I’m some vampire who hasn’t been invited in—I lived that experience on a TV show already, and no thanks—but because I’m not sure if I’m allowed to come in.

I don’t exactly know where we stand right now. It’s evident she’s still upset with me, but she did let me walk her back to her apartment. That’s progress, right?

My phone shakes against my hip, and I ignore it. I ignore it like I have been for the last several days. I’m sure it’s Dylan. Just like I’m sure she’ll leave another angry voicemail.

It’s been the same cycle since my awful date with Keely: Dylan yells at me, and I ignore her until the guilt eats at me, then I answer. She yells again, and the cycle starts over.

But right now, I have more important things to worry about than my publicist being mad at me for not kissing Keely Haart.

I’m standing outside Olive’s apartment, and that takes precedence for many reasons.

I let my eyes slide over what I can see from my vantage point. It’s small, that’s for sure, but it doesn’t feel small. More . . . cozy. Comfortable. A lot more welcoming than my place, especially with the photos hung on the wall. There are even a couple of funny signs about it being “wine time.” There’s a little wooden table by the door with a ceramic bowl holding keys, receipts, and sauce packets from random places.

Nothing truly matches, but it somehow makes perfect sense.

Olive disappears around the corner, and the sound of voices floats down the hall to me.

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