AllFreeNovel
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A level of attraction that’s quite inconvenient, actually.
Even now, I can’t stop watching Sullivan through the kitchen window. I can’t take my eyes off him chopping our salad.
What is it? Why does my whole body ache just from the shape of his shoulders? What is it about the proportions of this man, the way he stands, the way he tilts his head, the angle of his jaw, that calls to me, that whispers,This one and no other…
Already, his motion is smoother, the knife gripped just right. He’s a fast learner.
His sleeves are rolled to the elbow. Each movement sends ripples up his arms, vein and muscle and smooth, brown skin…
A droplet of sweat slides down between my breasts and drops sizzling on the grill.
Sullivan glances up, our eyes meeting through the window. He’s not mad about what I said—he smiles like I never said it at all, the right side of his mouth quirking up a little more than the left.
His crooked smile is his only flaw.
Of course, it’s not a flaw at all.
It’s what makes his smile exactly what it is—my favorite.
Instead of smiling back like a normal person, I duck my head like I just got caught.
My favorite?
No, no, no, no, no.
Sullivan cannot be your favorite anything.
Because you don’t get to keep him. And you can’t take another loss.
There it is. Plain as day. I didn’t want to say it, but I have to.
You’re a fucking mess, Theo, and you can’t take another hit. For once in your life, protect yourself…
I sneak another glance at Sullivan.
He’s frowning slightly, testing his new chopping technique on a carrot. As he concentrates, the tip of his tongue touches the center of his lower lip.
The smell of charring peppers reminds me of what I’m actually supposed to be doing.
“Shit!” I start flipping skewers as fast as I can.
The door to the pool house opens. Sullivan’s father emerges, coming out into the fading twilight, blinking like it’s full sun.
He’s slightly better groomed than yesterday, in the sense that his hair is only half as messy and his eyes are less bloodshot. But his clothes still look like something picked rumpled off the floor, and his stubble is on its way to a full-blown beard.
As he stalks across the yard, I consider fleeing back into the kitchen. Staying put is more of a deer-in-the-headlights reaction than actual bravery.
“Theo, right?” he says when he reaches me.
“Y-yes…”
He’s not smiling, not even a little bit. His blue eyes are coyote-pale and just as wild. I’m expecting him to shout at me again.
Instead, his mouth makes a twitching movement, a kind of painful grimace, and he grunts, “Sorry about the other day.”
I can tell what it cost him to get that out.
He’s like me…a sad, open book. That no one wants to read.
