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CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Faye
As we drive farther away from the city, I sit in the passenger seat, the water glistening alongside us. It’s another bright day, the sky blue, seeming to become more vivid the further we get away from the city.
Lola was supportive when I told her about the photography trip. There was no doubt in her mind, no suspicion.
“I hope you get some good pics.”
She’s not imagining that I’d be sitting here, fighting the need to reach over and squeeze onto Felix’s taut muscled forearm.
I look at him as he drives, his hand confidently on the steering wheel, one arm hanging out the window as we cruise down the highway. He’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt, the fabric loose, settling gently against his muscles as though trying to outline them only teasingly.
He glances over at me and smirks.
“No intimate stuff, remember?”
I grin, laughing. “Who said anything about that?”
“You did,” he chuckles. “But yeah, fair enough, you didn’t use words.”
“Do you think you can read me that easily?”
“Yes,” he says confidently, without a pause.
I smile even wider, warm sensations dancing over me.
But then my mind goes to last night, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, remembering the photo shoot and how hot I felt, how wanted…all coming from the man I’ve always dreamed would want me.
Then I heard Lola in the next room, reciting medical terms, attempting to commit them to memory, and I tried to push the feeling away.
But I couldn’t. I could never push Felix away.
“I was thinking last night,” he says a few minutes later.
“Hmm?”
“About what I told you. About Maddie.”
“Yeah?”
He sighs as we join the road that will lead us to the suburbs and then the countryside.
“It’s similar to how you could be feeling,” he says, his voice tight as though it’s difficult for him to say this. “I was confused. I met an older person. I thought it’s what I should be doing…because, hell, that’s what people do. They get into relationships. They try it out. Sometimes, they even say things they don’t mean because they think they should. Or they feel awkward.”
He glances at me again.
“Did you say anything you didn’t mean?”
“To Maddie, yes. I regret it. But I told her the stuff she told me, about how much I cared about her, stuff like that. It was wrong.”
“But about me?” I say firmly, knowing I probably sound selfish.
If I can’t be a little selfish now when the relationship of my dreams is at stake, when can I?
“I meant every word,” he says gruffly. “Every. Single. One. I’d never lie to you about this…about us.”
I let out a breath. “Okay. Phew.”
