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Why am I so nervous? Seth obviously okayed my coming to his place, or I wouldn’t be standing on the street outside his building, wringing my hands together and shivering in my light jacket.
Unsure of myself. Of being here. Of seeing Seth again. The memory of his face, the rasp of his voice, it all has me confused.
He likes me.
I like him, too. So that’s why I’m here. Guilt sure played a role as well, but above all… Above all I want to see if I feel the same way today. That comfort, that ease, that warmth I felt when he was there.
Like everything in my life fit together. Like I fit in, for the first time. His interest, his concern, his presence made me feel good. Same way I’ve always felt with Cassie… only different.
But that’s because he’s a guy, I tell myself as I finally find the nerve to buzz his apartment. I don’t have many guy friends. Used to, at school, but haven’t seen them in a while. That’s what’s different.
Been training so hard I’ve been de-boyed. Can’t remember
what it’s like to be around them. Time to change all that.
After climbing up the second flight of stairs, I find the door to the apartment half-open. It has a sticker on it—a snake, and below in print ‘Damage Control.’
Micah is standing at the opening. I recognize him immediately—the short, blond hair and sky-blue eyes.
“Thanks for coming,” he says quietly and opens the door wider. “He has a bad headache. No loud noises, no bright lights.”
I enter into the dim interior, and he closes the door behind me. It’s a small living room with an old TV set and a worn brown sofa. Dirty dishes are lying on a low table, interspersed with a half-full ashtray, a remote control, glasses and mugs. There’s a bunched-up blanket on the sofa, and a pair of boots lies under the table.
“Shouldn’t we call his family?” I ask as we both hover there. “Maybe they’ll want to be here for him.”
“Seth has no other family,” Micah says. “Not anymore. Just us.”
I want to say something, but the words catch in my throat. Something twists in my chest.
“This way,” Micah cuts through my thoughts and gestures at a door opening to the side of the room. “He’s in the bedroom.”
My feet feel heavy. I drag them through the doorway, my nervousness turning into panic.
Seth is there, lying on top of the covers on the single bed, fully dressed, an arm thrown over his eyes. At first I think he’s asleep, but then he shifts and lifts his arm.
His face is pale. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his lips are dry and cracked.
Crap. This is my fault. My chest feels heavy as I sit on the bed beside him.
He squints at me, his gaze a little hazy. I look at him, and all I can think of is that I didn’t know guys could have such long and thick lashes. Or such pretty eyes.
Wow, that was random.
Or was it? He’s looking at me, and I’m gaping at him like an idiot. Say something, Manon. What the hell? That never happens to you with Fred.
“Hi,” I say.
Deep statement. Well-thought-out. Engaging.
So not.
But then he smiles, and it’s unexpectedly beautiful and bright, sinking a hook into my heart and hauling me in.
“Manon.” His low, rough voice caresses my name, and I shiver. “You’re here.”
“Yeah. I tried calling you. Sorry about this. It’s my fault.”
“No, sweetheart, it’s not.”
