As for her contact information and address, that wasn't even a question anymore. After all, they had already shared even the most embarrassing stories from their childhood—what was a phone number or apartment code compared to that?
In fact, Rex could probably count how many moles she had on her body, and accurately at that.
She had told him she rented an apartment in Beverly Grove… emphasizing the "Grove" part with a teasing smile.
"Not the Hills," she said. "I'm rich enough to be between West Hollywood and Beverly Hills, but not quite rich enough to live in them yet."
It wasn't said with any bitterness. Just honesty. And ambition.
He even knew the passcode to her apartment. She had shared it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Of course, she knew his place too. They hadn't drawn boundaries like most people did. There were no awkward pauses, no hesitation. Just comfort. Whatever this thing between them was, it wasn't confined by typical rules.
