AllFreeNovel
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Arriving at the tiny apartment complex just after bar time, Lake pulls into a vacant parking spot off the side of the building. Putting the truck in park, I take a breath as he sits back in his seat, letting out a breath of his own.
“Thank you,” I say, just above a whisper. “For tonight.”
He arches back into his seat, getting more comfortable, and I love that he doesn't expect me to just get out and run back up to my place. He turns down the music a tad, turning to face me as I continue.
“It was everything I didn't know I needed.”
His temple rests against his headrest, his dark brow cocked slightly. “In what way?”
I toy with that loose string on my dress again, feeling my palms get sweaty as I look down at my hands. “I didn't realize how badly I needed a night to feel...young again,” I say, my brows knitting. “If that makes sense.”
“It does,” he whispers. “It makes a lot of sense.” He studies me for a moment, our eyes connecting as if he's reading my past through them. “You weren't given many opportunities to get dressed up, bar hop with friends, take shots for no reason, kiss a guy behind a bar…”
I feel myself get flushed, the heat traveling up my neck.
He's not wrong though. Those opportunities were there for everyone else. Learning through mistakes and wild experiences. I couldn't learn through them. Could never dream of it. They'd have broken me and what I'd fought so hard for.
I find the strength to pull my eyes off my lap and peer into his.
“Yeah,” I admit. “You picked up on that, huh?”
His gaze tears into my soul, and surprisingly, he avoids the statement. Reaching across the console, he grabs my hand from my lap and places it in his on the leather barrier separating us. He touches my hand so gently, and the air pushing through the vents does nothing to decrease the all too embarrassing clamminess of my palm. Running his pointer finger over each of my nails, he sighs.
“You painted your nails.”
I swallow, frowning lightly, not understanding why he looks like it brings him displeasure.
“I did,” I whisper, looking at the fresh black paint I applied yesterday.
The paint that is uneven as ever. The paint that covers the remaining white coat because I couldn't find any nail polish remover and didn't make the effort to chip it off. He touches the line where the old polish runs out, the extra layer creating a bump in the smoothness, and he wears a sullen expression as if reminded of something that tears at him. It's as if it pains him to see my weak attempt to cover my misfortunes, even if it's simply declining to spend extra money on nail polish remover.
Just as I'm wishing I could read his mind, he speaks.
“You deserve to be selfish sometimes. Even if you find yourself hating the idea.”
My heart aches at his words.
“You deserve…” He pauses, playing with my fingers as he attempts to find the words. “You deserve to be looked after, too.”
My mouth runs dry, and breathing is hard again.
Silence fills the truck, and somehow, the cabin feels as small as a clown car. We sit there, his fingers sliding through mine as we both just stare down at them.
So much is happening while nothing is happening. Minds are understanding through the thick air between us. Souls are embracing through our simple touch, and yet, I can't find the words to articulate my reasons for selflessness.
I wish I could be selfish. But ultimately, it's not my life. I accepted that long ago, and his attempt to remind me has me frustrated by a past I can't control.
Silence lingers before his words tear through the tension surrounding us.
“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?”
Totally not what I was expecting to hear. I look up at him, but he's still focused on our hands, his expression one of confusion.
“The only plans I have are to order in and wear loose pants.” I scoff through my nose, then answer, “But no. No plans. It's like three weeks away yet. Why do you ask?”
He stares down at my fingers in his, that brow still creased in the middle. “I want you to meet someone.”
My stomach drops to the floor of his truck.
