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Reese’s face flickers between several emotions. First, disbelief. Then, confusion. It finally settles on amused. “Olivia—fuck.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll order in. What do you want?”
The thought of food makes me want to retch again. Oh, God, nothing greasy. “Uh, no preferences. Whatever you want.”
“Cool. The two great Ps it is then. Pasta and pizza.”
I nod. Pasta shouldn’t be too bad on my upturned stomach. Maybe it’ll actually help settle the nerves if I have something else to focus on.
I push off the sink. “Ugh. I think I need to sit. I’m gonna grab my phone and bring Violet down here?—”
“I’ll do it.” The sudden, sharp alarm in Reese’s voice raises my brow. But the thought of being freed from having to walk all the way up the stairs and then all the way back down has me shrugging instead of asking follow-up questions.
“Okay. If you insist.”
While he goes to fetch her, I flop on the couch, hoping that going horizontal for a while turns me normal again. I snuggle my face into the couch cushions, and it does help. Kind of. At the very least, the sensation of impending upchuck doom hasn’t returned, so I guess I have to be grateful for that.
Reese takes his time coming back down. My eyelids droop, the sweet pull of sleep beckoning me. I want to give in, just pass out and embrace where my body obviously wants to take me.
Reese’s hand on my shoulder startles me out of that fantasy. “Sorry,” he says when I look up at him, startled. “Just wanted to give your phone back.”
He’s got Violet nestled in one arm and my phone held in the other hand. Nervousness radiates around him like an ozone leak.
“You good?” I ask, taking my phone. A cursory glance shows that I’ve missed a call from Mom. I’ll deal with that later.
Reese nods, his eyes lingering on my phone for a moment before he nods. The nerves dissolve immediately and he smiles at me. “Peachy,” he replies. “Nothing to worry about.”
His face is composed, but his tone is a little too shaky for me to take at face value. My curiosity—and caution—is piqued. “Reese?—”
“So I wanted to talk to you,” he presses on. “About last night.”
He situates himself at the end of the couch. My feet end up in his lap, right next to Violet. This is the conversation that I’m not ready to have.
“What about it?” That’s right. Turn it back on him. If he wants to talk business, he can say the first spiel.
“Are we good?” He gestures between us. “You and me.”
“What do you think?”
“I think I want an actual answer.”
I bite my lip. He’s putting me in a corner and I don’t appreciate it one bit. I clear my throat. “It was sex. We’re attracted to each other, obviously. But I don’t think I’m ready for normal yet. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few months, I don’t know what to believe,” I say truthfully. “I love you?—”
“But you don’t believe me.”
The way he says it, the woundedness in his voice—that stabs me right in my chest. Reese doesn’t know just how much I want to give in to him. Keeping this distance hurts me just as much as it hurts him. Maybe even more.
“I don’t know what you expect me to believe, Reese. I’m just trying not to get burned.”
“Because I would do something like that? To you?”
“Anyone can hurt anyone.”
Reese scoffs and stands. “Yeah. Clearly.”
He walks away. I want to have the strength to follow him, but right now, I just don’t. I lie back on the couch, tears pricking hot in my eyes.
What am I going to do?
17
