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I jerk back, shocked. “You hated me. How could you have been jealous?”
He lifts his shoulders and lets them fall. “I don’t begin to understand my feelings where you’re concerned, I just know they exist. But that’s no excuse for what I said to Ricky. Iknowyou’re an amazing teacher. You’re the reason I passed calculus, and I’ve heard parents boast about you—the extra help you’ve given their kids, how you find ways to make science fun. I said stupid shit out of jealousy and because I was frustrated that Istillfelt things for you, when you obviously hated me. It was wrong, and I’m really sorry.”
I blink at him, blown away all over again.
His insult in high school devastated me at the time. My confidence was lacking back then, and he made it a million times worse. I shied away from guys after that, couldn’t muster the courage to take a chance only to be laughed at again. Last year, overhearing Avett’s insults was like I was that teenager all over again, questioning my worth.
But it’s not like I haven’t talked shit about Avett over the years too. We torment each other in public and gripe about each other in private. He claims his behavior is linked to jealousy. Maybe that’s why he affects me so much too. I hated seeing him kiss Tvisha and was extra challenging with him the next day.
“You’re forgiven,” I say softly.
His Adam’s apple slowly drags down his strong neck. “Yeah?”
I shrug. “Hating you is exhausting. It’s not good for my beauty sleep.”
“You definitely don’t need any extra beauty.” His dark eyes roam my face. “You’ve got the quota on lock down, but…” He places his hand on top of mine, the simple contact zinging up my arm. “You seemed sad this morning, and then this run, and you didn’t want me to take you to the hospital in case you saw your mother. Is everything okay?”
Right. Yeah.That.
My spine straightens, all zinging flatlining. Being with Avett is messing with my mind. I may forgive him, but I’m not sure I can forget the negative energy between us, and it doesn’t matter. Not with my plans.
“Just some family stuff.” I ease down from the table, moving away from his strong, capable hands. “No big deal. Anyway, it’s late. We should both get home, but thanks for the stitches, and for not stabbing me while you worked.” I fit on a smile. “Hopefully your alarm clock doesn’t go on the fritz tomorrow and send your day into a tailspin.”
He taps his fingers on his thigh, his focus on me absolute. “I have a backup alarm for my alarm, so no need to worry about me.”
Of course he has a backup alarm for his alarm, but he’s right. I don’t need to worry about Avett or give him a second thought. I don’t need to think about his confessions tonight or try to work out why my body feels oversensitive near him. I don’t need to relive the feeling of his hand on mine or replay the rough tone of his voice as he said,You, Naomi James, have always gotten under my skin.
chaptersix
Avett
My alarm blares at 6:07 a.m. Once I silence it, my backup alarm goes off at 6:11. I head out for my morning run at 6:30 and finish with sit-ups, push-ups, and pull-ups.
In five years, when I buy this house from my parents, I plan to convert the basement office into a proper home gym. I won’t change much of the general decor. I love the light blue dining room and white pocket doors that open into the country kitchen.
Hopefully the woman I marry will love the understated and comfy furniture, the wildflowers in the backyard, the cute bench and flagstones laid out to make the outdoor space warm and contemplative. I often picture myself laying out a blanket on the grass, with a spread of cheese and wine. A backyard picnic with my future wife, in this quaint neighborhood that will become our home.
This morning, Naomi is that fictional woman lounging in my yard.
I don’t have any business thinking about her. Our post campaign run-in might have been a misunderstanding, but my cruel words to Ricky at that party weren’t. I’m not proud. I’m downright ashamed of what I said. Feeling confused over my jealousy is a piss-poor excuse for my behavior.
Still, images of her fill my head while I exercise, inescapable and insistent. I wonder if she was as attracted to me last night as I was to her. I wonder if she enjoys tender nights with lovers or experimenting and testing her boundaries. Based on the tormenting woman I’ve come to know, I’d say she loves taking control, using filthy words and bold moves to drive her partners crazy.
I wonder about Naomi as I shower, imagining the taste of her skin, how those nails would feel digging into my ass. I grip myself and stroke to the rhythm of my fantasies, tighter, faster, coming in thick streams like I’m seventeen again—desperate and horny and consumed by Naomi James.
I trim my beard, then drive to Sugar and Sips, thinking about our overlapped fingers on my operating table, the confusing emotions she inspires, this woman I hate. This woman I’ve always crushed on, even when she’s driven me nuts.
I replay her one-eighty in the clinic, brushing me off and closing down when I asked if she was okay. Honestly, seven years later, I’m still a mess over Naomi James, unsure how she feels about me, wishing I had a chance with her, worried any move will end in blunt rejection.
I park and walk toward our coffee shop, nerves dampening my palms. Two steps from coffee nirvana an irrational fear strikes me.Naomi won’t be here.
With last night’s confessions, I’ve rearranged our history. Changed our relationship and all it means. Maybe she doesn’t care about me anymore. She might have only come to Sugar and Sips to aggravate me. With my apology and our mutual understanding, her need to annoy me might have dissipated. She might make coffee at home and quit invading my life.
I won’t see her every weekday morning between my run and my drive to work.
I walk faster, nearly tearing the coffee shop’s door from its hinge. And…fuck. She’s not here. There are three people in line, and she’s not one of them. The rush of disappointment is so forceful I press my fist to my chest.
The sound of high heels jolts me. I’d know that regal click-clack anywhere.
