AllFreeNovel
Share Us
That sounds like heaven.
Too much to hope for, though. I’ll take what she gives me—whatever I can get.
“I thought we could watch a movie.” Carmen sounds unsure, her teeth worrying her plump bottom lip. She’s dressed in a faded yellow t-shirt and purple sweatpants, and I’m inordinately pleased that she didn’t dress up for this. I’m seeing her in her natural state.
“I’d love to.”
I mean, she can watch the movie, and I’ll watch her. Let’s be honest: that’s my dream evening. And when she gets tired and wants to sleep, I’ll climb back out that window and guard her beach house from the deck.
I’ll be close still. So close I can hear her sigh in her sleep.
It’s more than I ever thought possible.
And I swear to god, it will be enough.
Eight
Carmen
Tudor doesn’t even watch the opening credits. He sits down on the sofa, tangles our hands together, and then stares at my face for the whole movie. With those thick eyebrows lowered, he absorbs every micro-expression I make, his mouth quirking whenever I burst out laughing at a trashy joke.
Itshouldbe annoying, right? Having him stare at me like this?
It’s not annoying. I’ve never felt so cherished in my freaking life.
Because listen: I’m not really special in any way. I’m an average girl, with normal looks and intelligence, and I’m nice enough, but truly, the most notable thing about me is that I’m twenty two years old and all alone in the world. Who wants that for their defining feature? Not me.
But Tudor watches me like I’m a miracle on earth, and he holds my hand like he’s scared I might melt away like a wisp of smoke. We chat about everything and nothing while I watch the movie, and it’s soniceto have another warm body on this sofa—to havehiswarm body—that when it ends and he kisses the back of my hand, I could rattle apart with excitement.
But then he says: “Okay, it’s getting late. Shall I leave by the window or the door?” and my heart plummets down to my mom’s faded woven rug.
He’s… leaving? Tonight?Now?
I thought Tudor was super eager to spend time with me. That he was literally obsessed. But I invite him inside for a couple of hours, and we watch one crappy movie, then he’s done?
“Oh. Okay.” My lips are numb, but I force myself to speak normally. Nice and breezy, like all my hopes aren’t crashing apart. “Yeah, you can use the door. Or the window if you prefer. I’ll, um. Should I leave it open for you again?”
I sound so pathetic, but if he’s done with me already, there’s no need to let the winter storms into my bedroom after this. The thought of leaving it open for him long after he’s gone is way too tragic.
Rejected by my stalker. That’s a new low, surely?
“Carmen.” Tudor’s frowning at me. “Are you alright?”
Oh, peachy. “Yeah, I’m good,” I rasp, tugging my hand from his. The air is cold after his warm, dry palm. Tudor’s mouth flattens into an unhappy line but he lets me go, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s in a black sweater and dark jeans again, just like the diner. “You’re right. It’s getting late.”
We walk back to my bedroom in awkward silence. Somewhere in another room, my Tudor playlist is still going, his husky voice filling the lonely air of my beach house.
Damn. I’d better find a new playlist to fall asleep to.
“Um.” I stop in the center of my bedroom rug and wave a hand at the open window. “Have a good night.”
The songwriter scowls as he stalks past to the window sill. He’s got one leg slung outside before he pauses, glancing at me, and the deja vu makes this all so much worse.
We were so close. Ihadhim. How did I ruin it in just a couple of hours?
Maybe the reality didn’t live up to the fantasy. Maybe Tudor preferred watching me from a distance, rather than deal with the messiness of human interaction. Maybe my movie choicereallysucked. Who knows?
“Would you like me to come again?” His voice is gravelly.
