Page 42 of Apparently, I’m Torture

“You remembered the song.” It was all I could think to say.

The set of his jaw told me he was at least a little insulted. “As if I could forget it. The amount of times I heard that damn song? You burned it into my brain.”

My laugh was shaky; I was still finding the feeling in my toes. “I should probably apologize for that.”

Shawn shook his head, his annoyance slipping. Or… maybe he wasn’t really annoyed? Maybe he was just scared. I was used to my panic attacks; they were a constant over the years, regardless of my medication. But Shawn had a full five years without them. Maybe he’d forgotten what they were like.

“Where’s Mia?” he asked, his voice gentle.

I sent my glance around the almost empty office, only catching sight of one blonde, blue-eyed, long-limbed woman standing by the elevator. Stacey was waiting for Shawn. And by the tap of her foot against the floor, she wasn’t waiting patiently either.

“She went home an hour ago. I told her I had to stay late tonight,” I answered, eyes still on Stacey.

He cupped my jaw, turning my face until I was looking at him, and my stomach fluttered. “Eyes on me, Fares. What happened? Why did you have an attack?”

I lowered my eyes to his lips. His full, perfect lips. “I’ve been trying to find a tutor for Mrs Hernandez. If I don’t have someone lined up by tomorrow, she’s going to submit a formal complaint to the principal.”

Shawn’s brows shot up and he scoffed. “Some parents…” He stood, and I almost whimpered at the loss of his touch. “Stacey, could you come here please?”

Obediently, the blonde trotted back without question, reappearing at his side with an adoring gaze. But Shawn’s focus was on me. “What kind of tutor is she looking for?”

I explained, and watched Shawn roll his eyes at the demands of my student’s mother.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? This sense of entitlement some people have.” He forced the resentment from his voice. “Stace, do you think you could call one of your Kappa sisters and get this sorted?”

A student from Pace. A legacy of Kappa Delta. Why didn’t I think of that? I was part of the alumni. I could’ve searched the student board for someone who was willing to take minimum wage for a tutoring job.

I facepalmed and groaned as Stacey strapped her phone to her ear. Her stare was icy, hostile even, as Shawn came back to my side, kneeling by my chair.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his face tight with care. I swallowed and nodded as he clucked his tongue. “You scared the shit out of me.”

I laughed as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him. My chest skipped; my pulse skittered; I couldn’t remember the last time he hugged me like this. He was warm and solid, and he smelled incredible. Male musk and wood mixed with ruffled papers and roasted coffee. My body felt leaden against his, like it was telling me this was what safety felt like. What being wanted felt like.

“I wasn’t trying to freak you out, but I have to admit, I’m… loving this.” I nuzzled into his firm chest. “It’s nice to know you aren’t always so switched on and professional.”

He stiffened and pulled away before I could get comfortable.

“You’re right. Sorry, I,” he cursed under his breath. “Lilly, I can’t be seen as… unprofessional. You understand that, right?”

“Um…”

“A lot’s riding on this fundraiser for me. My Maslow initiative is being given thirty percent of the money raised.” His voice was low, hushed. Stacey was still talking on her phone, her voice now bubble-gum sweet. “And things between us,” he paused, wagging a finger between our chests. “Haven’t been easy.”

I nodded, my slow to process brain finally picking up speed. “You’re right. They haven’t been. Maybe… maybe we could have a, um, we could truce?”

One thing I could never forget, ever, was how dazzling Shawn’s smiles were. They were sexy, slow, coy, deliciously dimpled things that made me feel like I’d won, really won, something special. They fizzled my mind, cooked me from the inside out, and I loved them.

But after five years away from him, five years believing he’d really truly hated me, I never expected to see one again. So, imagine my surprise when he gave me a full, genuine smile as he said, “Truce,” and held out his hand.

I swallowed a pool of saliva back down my dry, sore throat, and slid my palm into his. His touch was warm, strong and firm as his fingers closed around mine.

“You’re off the hook,” Stacey interrupted, eyes tracing our joined hands like it was some kind of rotting trash. “Kya, one of our legacies, needed a tutoring job. Twenty dollars an hour sounded like winning the jackpot to her, so I gave her your number.”

Sure enough, as Stacey pocketed her phone, mine lit with a text from someone named Kya. Her message was full of emojis and exclamation points, but I was filled with relief.

I pressed my phone to my chest and breathed out, “Thank you.”

But all Stacey did was tighten her lips into a thin line and ask Shawn, “Can we go now?”