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15
LACHLAN
I rubbed my thumb over my lips, remembering how my mouth had felt against Foster’s. His lips were soft and pillowy, his kisses addictive and better than I’d even imagined. Had that really happened?
I sat up in my tent and tuned in to my surroundings. Unzipping the flap, I noted it was another sunny day, so the walk to the shelter would be pleasant.
What was I doing kissing a guy and acting like my life wasn’t on the line?
I needed to keep focused on surviving, not getting off with Foster.
As if my thoughts summoned them, they rounded the corner, and damn, seeing Foster again after I had my hands all over him nearly did me in. He was so gorgeous and sexy. And upon closer inspection, he was wearing the hoodie I’d abandoned last night before running out the door like a coward.
My face felt warm as they approached, and thankfully, Oscar distracted me by practically jumping into my lap.
“Sorry I didn’t say bye to you last night.” I kissed his snout, then met Foster’s eyes. “Sorry to you too.”
“Why? I was a very willing participant.” When his gaze scanned down to my lips, my cheeks felt even hotter.
“I shouldn’t have… I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
“About what?”
“I’m obviously not in an ideal situation right now.” I motioned to the tent. “And even if I were, I’m not ready to trust someone again so easily.”
“Don’t even give it a second thought. It’s been a while for me…” He looked away as if embarrassed. “So thanks for that.”
My lips parted in surprise.
“I still hope we can be friends.” He grimaced. “If it’s too uncomfortable, we can start taking a different route.”
“No!” I blurted, pathetically. “No need to do that.” I looked forward to their visits, but I wasn’t willing to admit that out loud.
He hesitated, studying me. “Okay, cool.”
“You’re wearing the hoodie,” I pointed out, searching for something to say. “I didn’t realize I left it until I got outside.” And would’ve looked like a fool going back in for it.
“That’s why I wore it—to return it.” Setting his bag down, he tugged the hoodie off his shoulders and handed it to me. “Also, how could I not? It smells like you.”
I froze halfway to slipping it back on, the butterflies in my stomach furiously beating their wings. But I was also doubting the words and hoping he intended them in a positive way.
“Was that wrong of me to say?”
“I just… I don’t know how you meant that.” I motioned to the sidewalk. “I live on the street.”
“Oh shit.” Foster’s eyes widened. “What I meant was, everyone has a unique scent, and I like yours. Earthy, like grass after a spring rain. And that probably sounds ridicu—”
“No,” I cut in. My heart clanged against my rib cage. “It sounds nice.”
“Good.” He dipped his head. “I can’t help admitting that last night was fucking hot.”
“It was.” I chewed my lip. “And to be fair, the hoodie smelled like you first.”
He inhaled sharply. “Guess we’re even, then.”
“Guess we are.”
We stared some more, and fuck, what were we doing?
Flirting. It’s called flirting.
I had no business flirting with him, but it was sort of fun.
“So anyway…coffee?”
“Sure thing.”
Foster walking away gave me a moment to catch my breath. I gave Oscar attention until Foster returned with our usual fare.
“Thank you,” I said as he handed me my coffee.
“Oh, before I forget.” He dug through his bag. “I was going to donate these to charity, but maybe you or others might be interested.”
“What are they?” I asked as he pulled out a stack of five books.
He hitched a shoulder. “Some classics.”
Looking through them, I found some interesting selections, including Ulysses by James Joyce, who was also Irish. I couldn’t help thinking that Foster was doing me a favor and wasn’t really going to donate them. But the idea of reading in the park again really appealed to me, so I stacked them inside the tent.
“Thank you.” I thought of the woman who’d noticed my book at the shelter a few days back. “I’ll be sure to pass them around.”
His gratified grin was blinding, and I couldn’t help smiling back.
“Okay, gotta run,” he said, and I waved goodbye.
I crawled back into my tent to look over the books, then chose the one that appealed to me most—not Ulysses because it was a slog to get through despite it being considered a literary masterpiece. Even Mom had trouble getting through it. I loaded the rest in my cart because I didn’t want to be greedy, then began my trek to the shelter.
After breakfast, I asked around and found takers for the books, including the lady who’d originally pointed out mine. I’d have to tell Foster his idea was a hit.
I stopped at the donation room, mostly to refill my empty bottles from the water dispenser they provided. I grabbed a sample-size toothpaste and bodywash to tuck into my cart, and noticed the vouchers for a local laundromat, which I’d save for this afternoon.
