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He’d removed the long-sleeve dress shirt he wore to our meeting. Underneath, he had on a white v-neck that hugged his body, but not so tight that it looked like he was trying to show off his muscles. Although he had every right to. When he brought the apple to his mouth, flexing his biceps, I wanted to stalk across the floor and run my hands over them. I even licked my lips.
Once again catching me staring, he slowly lowered his arm.Damn showoff.“Are you certain you aren’t hungry?”
Not just hungry, I was starving, but it had nothing to do with food. “That apple looks good. Did you get two?”
He smiled and returned to the kitchen, giving me another opportunity to ogle his ass. I doubted I’d ever seen a man who looked as good in trousers as he did. Except for maybe Rashid, but I’d never looked at him in the same way I was looking at Lynx.
I’d slipped earlier and called him that out loud, although it didn’t appear he’d noticed. I had to keep reminding myself that as far as he knew, I wasn’t aware that was another name he went by. Hoping it would prevent another slip, I began repeatingLennoxin my head.
“Here.” When he handed me the apple, his fingers brushed mine. Was it just me that felt a rush of longing whenever he touched me? Was the chemistry I felt between us really one-sided? Had he not noticed how flushed my face became when he spoke to me? Or how I squeezed my thighs together when his skin touched mine? Was I really that forgettable?Forgettable.
“Oh!I forgot to mention that I heard from my parents.” Was it also my imagination, or did the smile just leave his face? “They’re at their house down the Cape this week. I’d forgotten that too.”
“I see.” I couldn’t see his face when he turned around, but I could swear he was smiling again.
“I don’t want you to think you’re still on the hook for babysitting.”
He rested his hands on the counter, and through his shirt, I could see his muscles tense. I stepped to the side so I could see his face, at least one side of it. His eyes were closed, and the muscles of his jaw were as tight as those of his back.
“Really,Lennox. I can just take a cab to my office, get my bags, and then have the same cab bring me back here. Youdon’thave to hang out with me.”
“No,” he snapped.
Before I could argue, his cell phone rang and he walked into the bedroom.
God, why had I been so stupid to leave my keys in my bag?Wait.If I didn’t know it would hurt really bad, I would’ve slammed my hand into my forehead. What was wrong with me? The super could get me into my apartment—it wasn’t like it would be the first time.
I eased myself out of Tommy’s door and called downstairs.
“Miss Emme, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Hi, Mr. Bridges. You aren’t going to believe this, but I left my keys at the office.”
He never seemed to mind my calling. It may have been because of the envelope of tip money I gave him every holiday. And in every holiday, I included things like National Pizza Day. That’s how often Mr. Bridges had not only let me into my apartment, but offered to give me yet another set of spare keys.
I didn’t actually lose them; I left them…not always in the same place, and not always in a place I could remember. When I found them—and I always did—I’d give that set to Mr. Bridges, so he’d have them the next time.
Fortunately, MIT’s security only required my handprint, along with facial recognition. If I’d been responsible for keys to my building, or even my office, I probably would’ve lost my security clearance in the first month.
“Don’t you worry. I’ll be right up,” said Mr. Bridges without a single grain of impatience evident in his voice.
“I’m sorry about this,” I said when he met me at my door.
“You don’t need to apologize to me, Miss Emme. It’s always a pleasure to see you.”
He held the door open for me, and I walked into the apartment, turning on the lamp in my living room.
There was something about overhead lighting I’d never cared for. This apartment had it, just like Tommy’s did, but I never used it. I much preferred floor and table lamps.
The layout of our apartments was identical, but they couldn’t have looked more different. His was modern and sleek. He’d left the concrete floors mostly bare while I’d covered every inch I could with thick, plush throw rugs. His furniture was all grays and tans with metal and glass tables and chairs. Mine was covered in prints and bright colors, and my tables and chairs were antique-looking wood.
The other difference I noticed, being in Tommy’s apartment today, was that there wasn’t a single thing out of place. Maybe because he was out of town, but something told me it wouldn’t matter. Even if he’d been there this morning, I bet it would still have been spotless.
I liked having the things I loved out where I could see them. And since Isometimesran late, it wasn’t important to me that every single coffee cup end up in the dishwasher. Most mornings, I just rinsed out the one I’d used the day before—something that would make my mother absolutely insane. But my mother didn’t live here. I did.
My guess was, like with most things, I took after my dad when it came to my ability to live happily amongst clutter. He probably didn’t have any choice but to be neat and tidy, since unlike me, he did live with her.
“What happened?” Mr. Bridges asked, perhaps noticing the bandage that covered the staples in my head.
