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EMILE
I’m all too aware of my proximity to Clarissa as we walk out of the hardware store, trolley laden with supplies for the roof. She walks close to me — not so close that I can feel the warmth of her body, but close enough that I catch the faint scent of shampoo.
It’s strangely intimate, but the moment that thought comes to mind, I have to shake it away.
“That’s enough,” I mutter under my breath.
“Huh?” Clarissa asks.
“Uh, that’s enough shopping for one day,” I say, trying to put on a convincing grin. “How about we get some lunch?”
Clarissa hesitates for a second, and I wonder if I’ve somehow given away the thought that crossed my mind just moments ago.
But Clarissa smiles shyly. “Yeah, sure.”
I surreptitiously breathe a sigh of relief as we pack the supplies into my car.
“There’s a great little burger place not far from here if you’re up for that?” I ask, trying to be casual.
“Sounds good,” Clarissa replies, smiling more broadly now.
It causes me to smile back. A warmth passes between us as we look into each other’s eyes, and for a moment, I’m brought back to those first two looks we shared as Clarissa jogged past my house.
I catch myself getting too drawn in again, though, and hurriedly climb into the car, determined not to make this awkward. Unfortunately, it’s too late for that. There’s a slight tension in the air that only grows as we drive to Wagon Wheel in strained silence.
I can’t help wondering what exactly I’m doing here. More to the point, I can’t help wondering why I thought offering Clarissa my spare room was a good idea. Of course, offering my bathroom was the neighborly thing to do, but I just had to take it one step further. It’s not like Clarissa’s bedroom has a hole in the ceiling, but you’d think it’d been ripped clean off the house the way I was offering beds left and right.
I risk a glance over at Clarissa as I drive, hoping she doesn’t notice. Thankfully her head is turned away from me, looking out the window to the streets of Aura Creek. I try not to let my gaze linger, but it’s tricky. And it makes me want to reach out to her — if not literally then at least figuratively.
“What do you think of the town so far?” I ask, trying to cut through the tension that still permeates the air.
Clarissa suddenly turns back to me and I catch her eye again. She smiles gently, apparently grateful for the question, and I only wish that’s how she’d looked at me when I offered my room.
Instead, she’d looked immediately uncomfortable.Of course, you idiot. What woman is going to stay in a strange man’s spare bedroom?
“It’s cute,” she tells me, still smiling.
I try my best to concentrate on the road rather than Clarissa’s gorgeous smile. It genuinely takes all of my willpower not to quip back something along the lines of, “So are you.” As stupid as it was to offer, part of me wishes she’d agreed to take the room in my place. I like Clarissa’s company, even if she seems a little nervous around me. I don’t blame her for being a little shy at my advances.
Advances?I suddenly think. I shouldn’t be making any advances on anyone. I thought that lesson had been drummed into my skull already.
My thoughts suddenly turn to Marcel, and I just know he’ll never let me live it down if he finds out I offered Clarissa a room. I can already hear him now.
You should have just invited her to stay in your bed and saved yourself a couple of steps.
I can see his I-told-you-so grin stretched across his face as he laughs at his own joke, and therefore, at me. He’s joked about other women like that, and it never really bothered me, but something about talking about Clarissa like that rubs me the wrong way.
No, I decide.I won’t be telling Marcel anything.
Instead, I turn back to Clarissa, determined to make this a normal conversation between two friendly neighbors and not, as Marcel would put it, between me and the girl I want to bed.
Because I don’t. I don’t. I can control myself and not ruin my relationship with my new neighbor. A neighbor I don’t even have time to get romantic with, considering the trip I have planned. A neighbor I should know better than to get romantic with, considering I know how this story always ends.
“It’s definitely got that small-town charm you said you were looking for,” I say, hoping I haven’t let the conversation lapse for so long that my response sounds forced. “And luckily, the burger place delivers the requisite amount of North Carolinian hospitality.”
Clarissa grins at this. “Well, of all my travels, North Carolina never made it onto the list until now, so I look forward to finding out what that is.”
“I’m still curious to hear about where else you’ve been,” I tell her as we pull up to the restaurant and climb out of the car.
