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Fuck, fuck, fuck!
She pulls away as I double over, hacking. At the hospital, the doctor said this might happen—the shortness of breath and coughing. I’ve been out of the woods for a good six months now, but the cough persists.
I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and find her hand on my other arm. Her expression has turned into one of concern.
“Are you all right?”
I nod as I straighten, panting. “Just a cold.”
She frowns but seems to accept my explanation. Her hand releases my arm and rises to my face. I freeze, completely out of my depth—and she touches my cheek, lightly, the sensation barely there. It makes me shudder with longing.
“Micah,” she whispers my name.
She bites her lip, and it’s so distracting I lift my hand and caress her mouth. It’s like the essence of a cloud, unbearably soft. I’m suddenly struck with a breathtaking need to touch my mouth to hers and see if she tastes as good as she smells.
I bend my head, so very close to her, and draw in her smell like oxygen. Roses? Jasmine? I’m not sure, but it’s intoxicating. Warm skin and freshness and one hundred percent beautiful girl.
She pulls back, her gaze uncertain. “Why were you watching me?” she asks.
It jolts me out of my trance.
Fuck. “You remind me of someone,” I rasp.
She studies my face for a long moment, and I wonder if she sees the truth. Then she sighs. “I have to go. I’m late.”
I want to slap myself upside the head. “Wait...”
She steps back before I get a chance to try and save the situation. “Bye, Micah,” she says softly as she turns and hurries toward the bus stop.
“Will you be back tomorrow?” I call after her. “At the donut shop?”
She doesn’t answer as the bus arrives with a squeal of tires, and she climbs in, vanishing into its darkness.
***
Seth comes into my booth after work and cocks a dark brow at me. “Ready?”
“For what?” Sitting on my stool, I stare morosely at the mess on my working station. I know I n
eed to clean and tidy up before I leave Damage Control, but can’t find the energy.
That girl is scared of me. She probably thinks I’m a crazy stalker. And I still haven’t had a chance to ask her name. Dammit.
“Come on, man.” Seth pushes dark strands of hair off his face. He wears black studs in his earlobe and silver bars in the shell of his ear. “Alzheimer’s already? Beers. Pool. Tonight.”
“Beers,” I repeat, the words slowly sinking in. Now I remember Ocean telling me about it. “A new bar nearby. Halo.”
“He remembers! It’s a miracle.” Seth squints at some drawings for tattoos I’ve pegged to the cardboard walls of my cubicle. “Coming?”
“Don’t know.”
“Big fucking surprise,” Seth hisses and turns to go.
“What the hell is your problem?”
He turns, his dark eyes flashing. “My problem?”
Shit. “Hey, man. I just...” I rub the back of my neck. “Fuck. I just don’t feel like it tonight, okay?”
