My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I study him. “We could be friends.”
“You want to be friends?”
“Oh.” I step back. “We don't have to; it was just an idea.” Why did I suggest that? I know it goes beyond the whole lonely thing. He’s also an employee of my husband’s, and I’m not sure being friends will be acceptable.
“I would love that. I was only taken aback that you'd want to.”
“I don't have many friends,” I admit. I don’t have anything to lose at this point. He's already seen me at my most embarrassing moments, so it's not as hard to tell him these things.
“I don’t either.”
“Really?” I tilt my head. “Now that is hard to believe.”
“Why do you say so?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “You kind of remind me of a big, cuddly bear. It’s inviting and makes you easy to talk to.”
“Cuddly?” His lips turn up on one side, and I think I might spot a dimple in his cheek.
“I mean you did kind of roar at those jackasses back there.”
“I want to go back in there and finish them.” A small growl leaves him, proving my point.
“But that could get us both in trouble.”
“It will do no such thing.”
“You think Mr. Wickham would have a problem with us being friends?”
“No, he would be more than okay with it.” He sounds so sure.
“Then instead of going back in there and unleashing the beast, let's get out of here.” I pull out my bus card. “I’ll let you swipe it too.” I playfully wiggle my brows. “Ride’s on me.”
“The bus?”
“Yes, the bus.” I laugh.
“I haven’t taken the bus in years.” That I can see. He might work for Mr. Wickham, but it clearly pays well going off his suit alone. “But if you want to, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“I do.” I loop my arm into his. “This way.” I give a small tug. “Are you hungry?” I ask, wanting to keep hanging out. Especially now that I know it’s more than okay.
“I could eat; where would you like to go?”
“Actually, back to my place?” I suggest. I have been hating the living space. It’s too big and empty. I swear my voice echoes in there when I talk to myself. Which is a habit I have. Charlie would fill up the space. “I can whip up something. I love cooking, and it's more fun when there is someone to feed and talk to.”
“I would love that.”
“Ope!” I squeak when I see the bus. “We'll miss it.” I tug on his arm hard, making him jog with me, and we make it on time. I laugh, swiping my bus card twice. “Here.” I tug him down to sit next to me.
“That was oddly fun.” He gives me a warm smile. I smile right back at him.
“It was.”
Less than an hour ago, my stomach was tight with nausea. Now it’s warm with a flutter inside. That coldness that's beenlingering around me for the past week is starting to melt away, a spark of hope and something new blooming in its place.
Chapter Twelve
WICK
