Because I Could Not Stop For Death | Lockwood & Co.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗

— 𝖎 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉 – 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖘

"𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 to mingle after all," came Anthony's voice from behind her. Eden turned from where she had watched Penelope go and gave him a half-smile. He gestured to Penelope's retreating figure with his chin. "What did she want? What did she say?"

Eden shook her head. "Oh, just catching up," she fibbed. It wasn't a total lie, but also wasn't the total truth. She straightened her shoulders and brushed past him. "Now, come on. We've got a job to do."

They didn't need George's map—Eden was able to lead them where they needed to go. She managed to duck around corners and bring Anthony closer to where they needed to be without being caught by a partygoer or security team member. As they walked, Eden could feel Anthony glancing at her and could feel that he wanted to say something.

Finally, he did. "Did she ask you to come back?"

The auburn-haired girl stopped in her tracks. She glanced at Anthony, brows drawn. "How did you know that?"

"What I would've done if I were her," Anthony admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets, shifting as he stood there. "If I were you, I'd have bitten her hand off."

Eden tilted her head. "Why?"

He gestured to the building they were in. "Because I can't compete with this."

"I never asked you to," she reminded him. "I-I don't want you to."

Anthony let out a sigh and Eden stepped forward, head stooping low to try and meet his eyes, which were slightly downcast. "W-What's going on, then?" he questioned, dark eyes meeting hers.

She shook her head. "I—I have no idea what you're talking about," she told him honestly.

"Look, I saw you talking to Kipps earlier outside," Anthony stated, his face flushing slightly as he admitted what had been bothering him.

Eden sighed. "Oh."

"Yeah," Anthony muttered, looking at her expectantly. "So?"

The girl tucked her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before she blew air through her teeth. "Well, he . . . asked me to come back, too," she admitted, her throat suddenly immensely dry. "And asked me out for coffee."

Anthony's brows pinched together. "Coffee?" he repeated distantly.

"Yeah, like . . . ," Eden added with a small shrug of her shoulders, "hanging out, I guess?"

"Like . . . a date?"

There was a tremble in Anthony's voice, so undetectable but still so present. Eden fooled herself into thinking she'd heard it, because she didn't entirely think that Anthony would care so much. Of course, she wanted him to, but she could never read him. Often, it felt like her pining was one-sided and a waste of time, yet something always brought her back to him. Still, she wondered why he cared so much. "Would that . . . be so hard to believe?" she asked, swallowing thickly against her paper-dry throat. Anthony didn't respond, but his face softened. "I turned him down. I could never come back here. I realize now that there's too much concrete and no smell of burnt toast, which I've come to enjoy." Anthony laughed quietly as she smiled at him. "Portland Row is my home. You and George." She shook her head, keeping her eyes on his. "I'm not going anywhere." Anthony nodded, relief loosening the tension in his tense shoulders. She gestured down the hallway that they were in. "Now come on."