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“But I’m not a part of your group.”
“Obviously.”
He pointed to the bench. “Do you want me to sit?”
I wanted to explode at him. Instead, I gritted my teeth and forced my lips into a smile. “Sure. So you don’t like the photo?”
He took a seat on the bench, as stiffly as possible. “No.”
“Why not?”He was impossible. It was the perfect picture, showing freaking emotion, which was a real feat given the subject. Just remembering the look on his face, the way he’d been lookingat me,made a fresh wave of heat cross over my skin and I forgot to be cold.
“I’m not that person,” he said, his voice softening.
Looking at him now, seeing him gear down instead of amp up, a pang of regret wriggled through my brain. “You’re not what person?”
He paused a moment as if considering what to say. His whole body went even more rigid than before, like he’d put on an invisible layer of armor.
He said, “The guy who joins a group.”
That’s not what he meant. No way was that what he meant. He was putting up his guard and holding back.
“Why do you do that?” I asked. If it sounded more like an accusation than I’d intended, but so be it.
“I’m not doing anything but sitting where you told me to sit.”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. You’re being weird.”
We stared at each other. My blood pumped faster and faster through my veins.
He wasn’t responding. Frustrated, I continued, “We’re supposed to be working together but you keep pulling away and shutting me out. Tell me the real reason you don’t like the picture…or I’m out.”
Why did I say that?The last thing I wanted was to stop spending time with my frustrating writing muse. I’d be losing the one thing I really wanted. What if he called me on my bluff?
Fingers trembling, I started taking down the ring light.
“Stop,” he said.
I froze, closed my eyes, and whispered a silent prayer.
“This arrangement is difficult for me.” His voice was gruff, like the stakes of this were as high for him as they were for me. Likehe cared.
Thank goodness.
“I like order. I like control,” he said. “I believe all that should matter is the work. Not appearances, not how personable I am or who I choose to spend my time with.”
“The spotlight can be exhausting,” I said, letting go of the light.
“Yes.”
“Ineedour arrangement to continue,” he said. “My life’s work depends on it.”
I needed this to work, too.
“Then let’s try to give each other some grace,” I said.
“I would like that.”
“Assume the best intentions, try not to snap at each other.”
