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Now it’s my turn to swallow. Jesus. I’m not sure if he meant that to come across the way it did but suddenly I’m glad he’s way over on the chair. Not that I’m scared of him. I’m scared of me. That look, those words . . . I’m throbbing everywhere, like he’s driven a beam of heat between my legs.
I’m not myself lately. And I can’t be trusted.
“Good night, Jay,” I tell him, reaching over for the lamp.
“Good night, princess,” he says his voice rich and throaty.
The room goes dark.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I’ve never seen my dad fret over a dinner so much.
It’s been exactly one week since he had the idea to invite the Knightlys over. Of course they accepted when the both of us went over to ask, my father and I appearing on their doorstep like door-to-door salesmen.
As would luck would have it though, Jacob answered first and by the time Dawn and Sage came to the door, looking very happy to see us, Jacob and Jay had both gotten invites as well.
Then came a week of trying out recipes, getting new kitchen supplies, going through the old china and silverware and place settings. Either my father has been hard-up for new friendships since mom passed, or he subconsciously gets how important it is to have people like the Knightlys next door, people who understand this crazy fucked world.
My week was blissfully uneventful. After Jay spent the night (and somehow I slept the whole night through, no dreams, no midnight bathroom breaks) we ended up being rather inseparable. I don’t know if it’s because I was putting out signals that I wanted him around (need is such a strong word) or that he felt the need to protect me but either way it meant where I went, he went.
Of course I didn’t mind. In fact, I’d grown accustomed to spending every minute with him. It’s not just the constant eye candy or the way he makes me laugh at the most absurd things. It’s something else, something deeper, that I can’t quite put my finger on without sounding like a total asshole.
He may not have spent the night again after that first time, but we did go and play disc golf once (he kicked my ass). He drove me to the school so I could pick up a package from registration and we had a look around where my future career might be born. We even moved the rest of my stuff out of the old bedroom and into the new one, turning Perry’s bedroom to the giant walk-in closet.
Speaking of closet, the whole area felt completely benign. Whereas before I could almost feel evil lurking behind it, now it seems like a closet. But I was still not moving back and I refused to even be in that bedroom by myself.
Somehow, Jay made everything safe. But I didn’t want to test just how safe he made me.
“Ada, they’ll be here any minute!” my dad yells from downstairs.
I’d spent the last few hours helping him in the kitchen (he decided on rack of lamb after the Knightlys assured him that no one was a vegetarian) and have only had a few minutes to try and make myself presentable before the “guests” come.
“I’ll be right there!” I yell from the bathroom, staring at my reflection with a sigh. I’ve been sleeping a lot better lately—no bad dreams—so my dark circles are pretty much gone with a hefty dose of concealer. But still . . . there’s something almost foreign about my face. It’s like I’ve aged in the last few weeks. Not in a bad way—I still think I’ve got it going on (even if Jay doesn’t seem to think so), but it’s at least noticeable to me.
I add some hot pink matte lipstick, realizing it’s the first time in a while I’ve made a real effort with makeup (a fact that the old me would be having a hissy fit over), then go into my room and quickly rifle through my clothes, looking for something sexy yet suitable. It’s not that I’m trying to impress Jay tonight but . . . okay. Well. Maybe there’s a small part of me that wants to show myself off in a different light. You know, not the student (although the giant ginger hasn’t taught me anything) and not the damsel in distress. And not just an ordinary eighteen-year old girl.
I want him to see me as a woman.
And I know. I know that’s completely ridiculous, not to mention probably taboo. I mean, he never came right out and said that . . . you know what? No. Not going to even indulge myself with these thoughts. The man can have animalistic sexual instincts all he wants but that doesn’t mean he’ll ever use them on me.
