A dream. That's all it was.
I flop back onto the bed, freeing my hands and slowing my breath. Heat floods my cheeks when I realize I had a dream about Jacob.
It was his fingers I felt touching me.
It was hisname I called out on the brink of pleasure.
Slipping into the bathroom, I get cleaned up and splash some water on my face. As I stare at reflection in the mirror, I'm forced to finally acknowledge what I've been denying, even to myself . . . that I'm attracted to Jacob, and not just physically.
And I feel like there must be something wrong with me because of it. Nothing about this situation is normal. But even just the thought of walking away from him causes my stomach to twist and turn, so I know I won't be doing that regardless of any negative thoughts.
Somewhere along the way of me trying to fill in his empty spaces, I started to feel things for him. A kind and gentle soul lies underneath the rough exterior, and I find it so hard to reconcile him with the man I read about in those newspaper articles.
My bathroom window faces toward Jacob's house, so I lean against the frame, looking down the beach to his small and lonely shack-like home. The sun hasn't risen yet, but it's starting to get lighter. Light enough that I can see that his boat is gone. He's already out there trying to make a catch so that he can earn some money. It's silly that even something as simple as that increases my feelings for him.
I'm too worked up after that dream to try and sleep again so I don't bother getting back into my bed. A coffee, a podcast, and my back deck sound like the perfect things to pass the time until I need to leave for work.
A few hours later, I head into work, and of course, the day drags by at a slow pace. It always seems to be that way when I've woken up really early. All I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep the day andthese feelings away, but I have to be here until five.
It's around three o'clock when I see a familiar truck pulling into the parking lot. My heart rate slowly increases when the memory of my dream surfaces. And the thought of his hands on me has my legs squeezing together. A warmth spreads throughout my body, and I'm pretty sure my cheeks turn pink. I'm blushing and I neverblush.
Jacob pulls all sorts of feelings out of me without even trying. In fact, he's tried hard to keep me away from him. But what good has that done?
I watch him step out of his vehicle with a soft smile on my face. I'm so glad the paint came off easily. You can't even tell there was anything on it now.
He's wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt, with a ball-cap finishing up the look. And although it's nothing special, it's so different from what all the men I've known would wear that it makes it all the more better.
“Remi.”
I'm pulled out of my gaze by my name being spoken beside me. I turn to see Grant standing at the counter with a chocolate bar. He turns his head to where I was watching Jacob walk toward the store and raises a single brow.
My heart beats wildly in my chest at being caught looking at him and smilingno less, but over the years, I've been taught to keep my face neutral no matter what is going on inside my mind.
When he turns back to me, I act as if nothing is wrong. As if I wasn't just caught smiling at the town pariah.
“Hi, Grant. How are you today?”
“Good. Very good.”
I scan his chocolate bar, finding it odd that he only ever gets random things like this or gum. He must eat out all of the time or go out of town for his groceries.
Out of my peripherals, I see Jacob enter the store, and I can feel Grant's stare burning into me as if he's waiting, watching to see if I'll acknowledge Jacob in any way.
I don't, though. I don't watch Jacob walk by or watch him walk down the aisle containing the bread.
I finish getting Grant's change out and hand it to him with a smile on my face.
“Here you go. Have a good day.”
“Thanks.”
He picks up his chocolate bar, looks over in the direction where Jacob went, and then turns around and walks out.
Even if he hadn't caught me watching Jacob, I would have felt uncomfortable in his presence. There's just something about him that I'm not sure of, but I can't put my finger on what it is.
A few minutes later, Jacob comes to the counter with a handful of stuff, and the smile returns to my face.
“Hi,” he says.
