“Open your eyes,tesoro.”
At that, her eyes open. If I wasn’t paying attention, I’d miss the flicker of a smile that ghosts across her face.
Something about the way she’s staring at me unfurls the knot in my chest. I don’t give nicknames to people I don’t know well. I don’t let them in. But this woman, this beautiful woman crying into my hands… she’s already somehow worked her way behind my main line of defense.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you from the first time I saw you, Eloise. You’re beautiful. You’re smart as hell, and that scares the shit out of me. And I really don’t know how to talk to you.”
Wow. I’ve never been so open and vulnerable in my entire existence. And I’m not sure I like it.
Usually I use my charm, my smile, my family name to get the things I want in life, but right now… I dunno. That wouldn’t work, for one. And for two, this girl is different, and she deserves something more than my usual spiel.
It’s out now, and I can’t take it back. Instead of feeling better at having told her the truth, I want to slip back behind my fuck boy mask and pull my veil of confidence back over me.
I can’t read the expression on her face. And it occurs to me that I’ve been standing here cupping her face for what could be an uncomfortably long time for her. Especially considering the tears and all.
I move my hand, but don’t let go yet. Sweeping back her hair, I plant a chaste kiss on the scarred side of her face. Her body is tense and doesn’t relax any as I slide my cheek against hers so I can whisper in her ear.
“I want to kiss you,tesoro. More than I think you realize. But I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have. So, I’m going to let you go about your business. But I’ll kiss you when you ask me to.”
I realize how cocky that sounds, and for once, it’s not what I meant, so I hurry to correct myself. “If you ask me to.”
Her face moves against mine, and I know without looking that she’s smiling. I feel exposed, self-conscious, and I’m not sure I like the curiosity lingering in her gaze when I pull my head away from hers and meet her eyes.
I’m not generally above using the means available to me to get what I want. But for once, this isn’t a story I’m spinning. It’s not a means to an end; it’s not my usual bullshit, and a piece of me wishes I’d gone with my everyday asshole persona. Papá always says vulnerability is dangerous, and that’s a hard narrative to shake. Eloise makes me vulnerable, exposed, and unprotected. It’s a sensation that’s tempting to lean into, and I don’t likethat, and the potential loss of control that comes along with it, not one little bit.
CHAPTER10
Eloise
Iwant him to kiss me. I want him to kiss me so badly that I’ve had to put my books down so I don’t drop them. I ball my hands by my sides to stop myself from gripping his shirt in my fists and not letting him leave until he does.
I don’t get why he wants to. Is this a cruel joke to him? Was he dared to kiss me by one of his jock friends?
I… maybe?
I just….
I don’t know.
From the vulnerability painted across his beautiful features right now as he stares at me under the amber glow of the streetlight, all I see is truth. Maybe it’s all I want to see, but I can’t find a single glimmer of asshattery or bravado on his face.
I don’t know what to do with that. It would be easier for me to accept if it was a dare or wager—that he was sent to kiss the girl with the scarred face.
But the way he’s looking at me, the way his thumb caressed the gnarled skin on my cheek, none of this feels fake.
He searches my face, his eyes flickering back and forth as he looks me over, and then he takes another step back. I want to cry out, I want to object, protest, make him come back, but I’m not sure how. I respect the heck out of him for being so protective of my space, of my feelings, for needing my consent.
But the voice in the back of my head says he can’t possibly want to kiss me.
My high school boyfriend, my first and only, messed me up. We weren’t together all that long. He was older, and I thought he cared. But he only wanted a hole to put it in. Any time we spent together was alone and almost always for sex. Any time we slept together, it was with him behind me. At first, he told me it was his preference, but after a while I figured out that he didn’t want to look at my scars.
So deeply ashamed that I hadn’t realized what he was doing sooner, I let him take what he needed from me. Too embarrassed to voice my feelings out loud. I stopped answering his calls shortly after I realized what was happening, and it wasn’t long after that he stopped calling at all.
Looking back, I can see how desperate I was for someone, anyone to touch me, to make me feel like I wasn’t a monster, to make me feel anything but the sadness I was encased in. So tangled up in grief and self-loathing, it blinded me from the truth of the relationship.
I almost snort. Relationship. He never took me out anywhere where anyone could see me, either. Restaurants with low lighting every now and then, the movie theater sometimes, but for the most part we hung out at his parents’ place and never when anyone else was home.
He was ashamed of me.
