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“Ziggy—”
“Hug,” she says, wrapping her arms around me.
God. Her smile was a gut punch, but this hug is a blow that knocks the wind right out of me. I stand rooted to the pavement outside her apartment building as she holds me, not a drop of air in my lungs.
“Hey.” She squeezes tighter. “Where’s my hug? You hugged me at yoga, why can’t you hug me now?”
“That wasn’t a hug,” I mutter into her hair, because the wind’s slapped it into my face, and fuck, does it smell good—like sweet, clean water, a purifying pour of goodness that I don’t deserve. “It was a…supportive…hold.”
“A supportive hold.” She snorts, an adorable sound in the back of her throat, chased by a bright, bubbly laugh. “Okay, sure. Well, it didn’t kill you, and this won’t kill you now. Besides, friends hug.”
“Not this friend.”
“C’mon. Hug me. Don’t leave me hanging.”
Sighing, resigned, I wrap my arms around her waist. She’s so strong…and yet so soft. I feel the long, hard muscles in her back and torso, the smooth curve of her hips. My teeth clench.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my ear.
A shiver runs through me that I barely suppress, but if Ziggy notices, she doesn’t let on. She just pulls away, flashing another one of those smiles that rips out the air I’ve just managed to draw in.
“Your turn,” she says, pulling her keys from her leggings’ pocket.
“My turn?”
“To come up with something friendly to do.”
I frown. “What would I know about that?”
As she opens her door, Ziggy smiles her widest yet. “You’ll figure something out. I have faith in you.”
10
SEBASTIAN
Playlist: “Good Luck,” Broken Bells
Ren looks as surprised to see me as I’m surprised to be at his doorstep. Damn Ziggy and her parting words.
I have faith in you.
I stood outside her apartment, as aggravating, frustrating urgency crawled through me. I tried to shake it off, to lose it, as I turned from her place, hoping walking away from her would wrench me free from it, pull me back into my old self.
But instead, I got to my house, showered, and walked the short distance to Ren’s.
Because absurdly, I seem to want to deserve Ziggy’s faith in me. And apparently, that starts with paying a confessional visit to the person who led me to her.
“Seb?” Ren’s expression morphs from puzzled to pleased as he opens his front door and steps back. “Come in.”
“Thanks.” I shut the door behind me and follow Ren, grateful Pazza doesn’t seem to be around to harass me. That dog lives for my torture. “Sorry for coming by without a heads-up.”
“You’re always welcome, Seb.” Ren smiles over his shoulder as he leads me into the kitchen. “Something to drink? Water? Tea? Coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Drumming my fingers on the counter, I grit my teeth. I hate this. Caring. Trying. It makes me feel like I’ve unzipped my skin and let it drop to a puddle at my feet, leaving me unnaturally, terribly exposed. I’m long past deluding myself that I don’t care or try with Ren, even in my limited capacity. So, I do my best to breathe through my discomfort and search for the right words. “I need to say something,” I finally grit out.
Ren turns slowly, his expression growing pensive as he faces me and searches my eyes. “Okay. I’m listening.”
Clearing my throat, I stare down at the ground, then force myself to look up and meet his gaze. How do I say this in a way that’s honest but doesn’t betray Ziggy’s trust and reveal her plan? “At your wedding…”
