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Her shoulders started to shake as she laughed. “Yeah, I’ll have to try that,” she said rather sarcastically, staring down into her plate.
The hair on the back of my neck rose. From the sound of it, her days were full.
Too full to even occasionally do things she enjoyed.
That started to piss me off.
“Your days are full?” I asked quietly—which was a damn miracle because right now I wanted to yell and beat up anyone who stressed her out. Instead, I remained calm and flexed my hand at my side.
“You could say that,” she answered—again cryptically.
That also pissed me off and angered me.
I wanted to know why her days were full—what was keeping her from an easy life that somewhere down deep inside of me, I knew she deserved.
But, instead of saying anything at all, I swallowed my anger and frustration—and incidentally, the rest of my crepes. That last bite tasted a lot more bitter.
A silence crept upon us like a slowly ascending tide.
No matter how much I drank, my mouth felt dry.
Finally, Cherry spoke, in such a sincere tone, it warmed my heart, “It’s been a fun day, Nick. I want to thank you.”
I looked over at her and said, “It has been fun, but it’s not over yet. You’ve still got all afternoon to take us wherever you want.”
She gave me a small smile. “That’s all right. You can choose next.” Her voice was small and hollow—how she should never sound.
My hand covered hers on the grass. “That’s not how this works. We’re doing whatyouwant.”
Her eyes held mine as she asked, “What’s one thing—one thing in the world that you’d want right now?”
The answer to that question shot immediately out of my mouth. “To know your real name.”
That beautiful face of hers fell, along with her eyes. “Nick,” was all she said as she pursed her lips together.
I squeezed her hand and waited to see what she’d say or do next. The tension between us was thick and unruly. My human instinct wanted to change the subject and ease the discomfort.
But my animal instinct was far too curious about what she’d do next.
So, I bided my time and remained quiet.
“For real, anything in the whole world,” she asked again, her slow, blinking eyes gazing up at mine. Everything about her called to me. I wanted to lean down and take those plump, pink pouty lips of hers with my own.
Instead, I let my thumb trace over her bottom lip. “For real,” I whispered, then allowed myself one, brief kiss. She tasted like chocolate and cream—which made it a hundred times harder to pull away.
After another lengthy pause, she asked, “Do you want me to keep staying with you at your house?”
Where the hell that came from, I had no idea. My mind raced to think of anything I could have done to make her think I didn’t want her exactly where she was. “Of course, I do,” I said, frowning at the audacity of her question. “Why would you even ask me that?” My words sounded coarse and gruff to my own ears.
“Nick?”
“Yes?”
“Then why haven’t you fucked me since I arrived?”
I looked her over as I kept my expression still and even. Then I decided to tell her the truth. “I’m really not sure.”
She stared at me for a long moment—not saying anything at all.
