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“And what the hell did they think they were protecting me from?” I sniffed. “Did they think I wasn’t strong enough to handle the truth? I mean, screw that shit. I thrive off the goddamn truth.”
Laughing softly, Beckett nodded. “Yeah, that I believe.”
I scowled and demanded, “What the hell does that mean? What’s wrong with being honest?”
He shook his head but kept grinning. “Nothing at all,” he assured me. “I love your brand of honesty. You’re so transparent I’m pretty sure I don’t have to ever guess what you’re thinking.”
If only he knew how transparent and honest I’d been before he’d come into my life. Even I knew I blurted out too much of my honesty before. I’d actually clamped up quite a bit since meeting him. But I didn’t tell him how I no longer divulged every detail of my life to Tess anymore, or how every thought in my head no longer spilled from my mouth. I thought shit through first—like, now for example; I wasn’t telling him how much I wanted to lean forward and press my mouth to his, just because it seemed like it’d feel right.
He had a pretty-shaped mouth and his electric blue eyes looked like they were practically dancing right now. I felt close to him. And a kiss seemed like the perfect way to show that.
But instead, I cleared my throat and repositioned myself on the bed as if I was trying to get comfortable. “I don’t have classes tomorrow, since you know, it’s Saturday. But I do have to get up early to go to work.”
He sighed out a breath as if sad that meant our talk was over. “Okay.” His voice was quiet and eyes somber as he leaned in toward me. I froze, holding my breath and wondering, oh my God, was he going to kiss me, right before he pressed his lips chastely to the center of my forehead.
I nearly wept.
“I’ll let you get some sleep then,” he whispered.
I blinked at him, feeling rejected because he’d made such a friendly gesture, a friendly platonic gesture that was in no way whatsoever sexual or passionate, probably because he didn’t feel sexual or passionate about me, period.
Though, honestly, how could he? He was this gorgeous, electric-blue-eyed piece of man candy, and I was, well, I was me. The short, opinioned, fat, ugly cow, according to a couple lovely classmates, who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut and was willing to lie for a rapist in order to score a simple date.
I shuddered and closed my eyes, turning my back to him so he wouldn’t see if a tear or two slipped out. “Good night,” I said as cheerfully as I could muster.
Except, in return, he sounded pretty somber when he murmured, “`Night, Bailey.”
Chapter 20
BECKETT
I waited until her breathing changed before I reached out and touched her hair as softly as I could without waking her. She didn’t stir, so I curled a couple more strands around my finger, wondering what she’d do if I ever touched her like this when she was awake.
It would’ve been nice if I could say she was hard to read, but Bailey was unfortunately all too easy to read. She said what she thought and did what she said, and the unfortunate part was I’m pretty damn certain she didn’t think about me that way in the least. She definitely would’ve done something about it by now.
Shaking my head even as I scooted in closer behind her just to get close enough to smell her hair, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Yeah, Bailey Prescott wasn’t really the type to stand around, waiting for the guy to come to her. Hell, she probably just grabbed his face and yanked him down to her if she ever wanted a kiss.
I grinned over the image until it struck me she’d never do that to me, because obviously, she didn’t feel that way about me, so it would behoove me to behave honorably around her. This was the girl I owed my life to; it’d be sleazy to put the moves on her when I knew she wasn’t interested, not to mention the tiny fact it’d make things extremely weird between us and she’d probably end up kicking me out on my ass and I’d be completely homeless and destitute. Oh, and I’m sure the fact she saw me have sex with someone else minutes after meeting her didn’t help matters either.
And even, despite all that, if she did perchance welcome an advance from me, what could I ever offer her in return? I had nothing.
So yeah, letting her know I thought of her that way was totally off the table.
But when she fell asleep next to me, all soft and innocent and beautiful, it was hard not to imagine a what-if. She was the most unusual girl I’d ever met. So far, I’d seen her be bold and sassy, then helpful and supportive, onto kind and caring, only to go bossy with a hint of compassionate concern. I didn’t even know someone could talk with bossy sass while they were worried about you, but she nailed it.
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sp; I kind of dug that. A lot. It made her even more beautiful to me. Someone so take-charge but with a soft center, made the male in me challenged to break past her mouthy demands and find that purr inside.
She murmured something in her sleep and rolled back around to face me. I held my breath, afraid I’d woken her, but her breathing remained deep and even, brushing across my face, so I relaxed fractionally, even as I felt like slime for groping her hair while she was unconscious.
“Sorry,” I whispered, cringing.
But, dammit, her face looked so soft and smooth and one curly lock from her bangs had fallen over her eye. I studied it, wondering if it was bothering her, tickling her nose or anything. I bet it was bothering her. Helping things out, I reached over and flicked the curl away from her closed eyelids, then I let the backs of my fingers linger and brush every so softly against her cheek.
Holy shit, I’d been right. Skin as soft as satin. I wanted her to cuddle against me so I could hold her the same way I had the night before. She needed to be closer, right up against me.
But that was wrong, and I was an ass for thinking about her this way after she she’d been nothing but hospitable and generous and wonderful to me.
