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“A degree in philosophy. Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Iris turns to me and quirks an eyebrow. “You’re kind of like a genius, huh?”
I laugh. “I don’t know about a genius . . . well educated, yes.”
She finishes inspecting my room and runs her fingers along my dresser before she flips through the stack of CDs sitting there. “How did you get into music?”
I walk over next to her and turn around to rest my hands behind me as I lean against the dresser. “Mom bought me an old guitar at a yard sale. I, of course, taught myself how to play and to read music, and while I’m definitely no Shakespeare, I’ve found I’m pretty good at writing lyrics.”
She wraps her hands around my waist. “A self-taught man . . . I like it.” Iris presses her lips to mine and then frowns. “So, after seeing all this . . . it doesn’t explain how you were able to fight so well. A guy like you, book smart, isn’t typically quick with his fists like you were with Jeremy that day.”
I frown. “Unfortunately, when you’re an unconventional man like me, it attracts the kinds of guys who like to assert their dominance over someone they perceive to be weak. It was unlucky for them that I knew how to fight. I wasn’t the mousy little nerd they expected when they messed with me. I had no problem fighting back, because using my fists to protect myself was the only thing I’d ever known. Of course, that was before Mom showed me there was another way to live without fighting constantly. I think for the longest time all the counselors had it in my file that I was a kicker.”
I chuckle at that last thought, but stop when Iris’s beautiful lips turn down into a deep frown. I pull on the hem of her shirt. Her eyes begin to fill with tears, and I slide my finger under her chin and tip it up so I can gaze into her eyes. “Hey, don’t be sad for me. I turned out okay.”
A tear slips down her cheek. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Was it horrible living with your real mother before you went into the foster system?”
I sigh. “It wasn’t pleasant, but at the time I didn’t know there was any other way to live, so I was unaware of exactly how bad it was. When the state came to take me away, I didn’t want to go with them. I fought every counselor, every foster family, teacher . . . anyone who I thought at the time was keeping me from being with my real mom. It wasn’t until Sarah came into my life that things got better and I wanted to change myself.”
“I used to feel that way about my mom too. It wasn’t until I found out she was dead that I really gave up hope of her ever wanting me back, because obviously, by then, that dream was dead just like she was. I can’t imagine what my life would’ve been like if I didn’t have Gran . . .” Iris shakes her head and then wraps her hands around my neck and twirls the hair at my nape around her fingers. “I’m glad you had Sarah. I would’ve loved to have met her.”
I hug her tighter against my chest. “She would’ve loved you.”
The mention of the word love causes her eyes to snap in my direction, and a strange intensity flows between us. It’s crazy to even entertain the idea of loving Iris so soon, but I know deep down that this is exactly what I’m feeling. It’s almost as if our story emulates some of the greatest love stories in history. The tales of two people who barely know one another, yet have such a strong connection that their passion is unfathomable to outsiders.
I just can’t bring myself to tell Iris that this is what I’m feeling just yet. If she finds out I love her so intensely this soon, it may scare her off.
With a regretful sigh, I pull back a bit. “I think it’s time we get that contract and head back before it starts to get late. It’s too risky to stay here much longer. Camera crews could be anywhere, and we don’t want to push our luck.”
She reluctantly nods and drops her hands from around my neck, seemingly deflated that I didn’t capitalize on the romantic moment we just shared. “You’re right.”
It kills me to disappoint her. I know we’re already in this deep together, and it probably wouldn’t totally shock her if I told her everything I’m feeling, but I just don’t want to continue moving our relationship so fast for fear it’ll stop at any moment.
IRIS
It’s been nearly a week since we were at Ace’s childhood home, and I swear we shared a moment when we were wrapped up in one another’s arms in his bedroom. I nearly told him I loved him in that moment, but thought better of it immediately because I don’t want him thinking I’m saying that merely because I know who he is. When I tell him that I love him, I want him to know that I mean it with each inch of my beating heart.
I stare up at his face while his chest rises and falls in a rhythmic pattern as he sleeps soundly next to me in my bed. His face is stunning with his chiseled, strong jawline and full lips that seem to have a resting pout to them even when he’s relaxed, and his prominent nose completes the features any male model would be envious of. His crazy, wild hair is even sexy when he sleeps. I’m constantly tempted to slide it through my fingers.
Ever since the first night we made love, we’ve spent every night together—each night being even more magical than the last, making me fall for him a little more. I’ve been saying a little prayer every night that he’s never found and can stay here with me just like this forever, but deep down I know that’s not reality, and it scares the shit out of me.
