“I’m going to change; I’ll be right back.” She walks down the hallway toward the bedroom and I take a seat on the couch, trying to figure out what, exactly, I plan on saying.
A moment later, she walks back out in a matching baby blue pajama set that has dark blue hearts on it and dark blue piping around the edges. Her face is freshly washed. It’s the first time I’ve seen her without makeup, and she looks even younger. I want to stare at her then pull her into my arms and never let her go.
“It goes without saying that I was a complete piece of shit earlier, and it wasn’t the first time.” She nods. “I’m sorry, Brooklyn. Nothing I can say will excuse my behavior. For what it’s worth, I hated myself the moment I said those things to you. I don’t want to hurt you and I never want to see that look on your face again.”
She tucks her feet beneath her on the cushion where she’s sitting. Her head rests against her hand that’s propped against the back of the couch.
“You’re right that I’m scared—I’m a coward, actually.”
“Why?” she asks.
I look over at her and her expression is soft, her eyes big in the dim light of the side table lamp. I expected her to snap back and tell me I don’t deserve a second or third or whatever chance I’m on, but she doesn’t. She’s warm and receptive, which somehow makes this harder.
“Because I don’t want to get hurt. I—” I say, standing up and walking over to the fireplace, resting my hand against the mantle. Maybe if I’m not looking at her, it’ll be easier to say. “I do like you. I do consider you a friend and I like talking to you and seeing you. I like spending time with you. I like touching you and feeling you.”
She’s silent, so I gingerly lift my eyes to meet hers . . . and she’s smiling.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to. What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing, just go on.”
“I’m scared of getting emotions involved with you, because I know there’s a good chance you’ll go back to Chicago—that you’ll miss your family or you’ll receive an even better job opportunity and I’ll just get left behind. I’ve said it before, but life out here isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s tough.”
“You don’t think I can do it?”
“It’s not that,” my brow furrows, “I just don’t want you convincing yourself that this is what you want because this is where I am. I thought if I pushed you away and was a dick, then you wouldn’t let yourself develop feelings for me.”
“It’s too late for that.”
I snap my head up and my eyes bug out. “Meaning?”
She slides off the couch and walks over to me slowly. She extends her arms and wraps them around my neck, pressing herself against me. I hesitate for a brief second before my hands come out and settle on her waist.
“Meaning that I already have feelings for you, and if I had to guess, I’d say you do for me as well.”
I chuckle but I don’t deny it. “How you figure that?”
“The fact that you’re so worried about me settling and staying here for you tells me that you care more about my feelings than your own. If you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t try so hard to get rid of me. You wouldn’t be so scared. It tells me that you see something between us. You see the potential for something you’re scared to lose.”
She put into words exactly what’s been running through my head. Our eyes lock and I slowly lean in until our lips meet.
Fireworks explode behind my eyes as her soft, pillowy lips move against mine. I dart my tongue and taste her lips, coaxing them apart till I can slip inside. How did I ever deny myself this experience? This desire to devour her consumes me. I want to taste, touch, lick, and bite every possible inch of her while being inside her at the same time.
She lets out a soft whimper as my hands travel up her body and into her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. Her hands pull on my neck to get closer to me and I can feel us both on the verge of losing control. Against every fiber of my being, I step back and break the kiss.
“No . . . more . . .” She pulls me back to her and just like that, I’m once again lost in her taste. Lost in the little mewls she makes as our tongues dance together.
This time when I step back, I grab her hand and lead her over to the couch. I sit down and pull her onto my lap, one thigh on either side of mine so she’s straddling me.
“Let’s talk about that date.”
She smiles. “Oh, so it’s back on? And which date would this be, exactly? Because I recall winning one on the bull and buying one tonight.”
I grab her sides and she erupts into a fit of giggles.