“Did you think I wasn’t coming?”
“Maybe.” I didn’t want to admit I was practically having a panic attack worrying about her. I reached out, lay my hands on her sides, and pulled her close again. It was good to feel her against me.
“I’m still mad,” she informed me.
“I know,” I mumbled. I tried to look properly chastised, but I wasn’t sure it was working. Well, she hadn’t really started yelling at me yet, so the look was probably a little premature. I straightened up, un-pouted my lip, and waited for the shit-storm.
“How did you find me?” she asked. “Did you follow me or not?”
“Well, I—”
She suddenly leaned forward and grabbed hold of my chin.
“And don’t you dare lie to me, Malone!” she snapped.
Meow.
“I tried to follow you,” I admitted, “but I lost you.”
“You said that,” she reminded me. “How did you get to Ron’s house?”
“My GPS…and a little luck.”
“Thomas!” she yelled, obviously exasperated.
I sighed and gave up. I reached out for her hand, and she let me lead her to the couch.
“I’ve got a…friend,” I told her. “He’s a skip-tracer. He can find out almost anything about anybody. I called him, and he got me the address.”
Nicole looked into my eyes for a long, long time. Her expression remained guarded and thoughtful all at the same time. When she finally spoke, I jumped a little.
“Spill it,” she said simply.
“Huh?”
“Everything you had this guy find out about me. Everything.”
“Um…well…”
Okay, this was not going swimmingly right at the moment.
“Out with it!”
“Okay!” I ran a hand through my hair. “He did a little background search on you but nothing too detailed, okay? All I wanted then was your phone number, really.”
“You could have asked for it.”
“Not right at that time,” I said. I tried to give her a smile, but it faltered. “You weren’t speaking to me.”
“Humph.”
“He gave me your IM account info, too.”
“So, you got all this info—my IM and my phone number—but you never called or tried to friend me?”
“I didn’t need to friend you,” I said—like a total idiot.
“What do you mean?”