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ChapterFifteen
Skye
I happento love chocolate covered strawberries, but not when they’re given in apology. They taste like regret, and I have to force one down and smile my way through it because Gideon’s been watching me so closely all night. In an alternate reality, he asked Chloe if I like them and went out of his way to bring them home to me just because. And then we could kiss again. And maybe more.
As it is, I hate the way he’s watching me, like he thinks I’m going to break. Because while I don’t think I’m shattered, I am disappointed. Kissing him last night was such a thrill I had hoped there would be more. That maybe he stopped to be a gentleman, but that he’d spent today pining away for me, desperate to kiss me again.
Kind of like I spent my day.
When I swallow the last of the strawberry, I throw back the last of my wine and rinse out my glass. I don’t know if I can sit and read now, on that loveseat, and not think about the feel of his hand on my neck, the way he gave my hair a little tug. The feel of his erection against my belly.
Guess that’s a physical reaction, and it wouldn’t have mattered if I was any other woman. I was willing, right? The only consolation I take from the whole fiasco is that if he came home that hard and kissed me like that, I assume he wasn’t with anyone else.
“What?” He nudges me in the side with his elbow. I look at him as I flip the light off over the sink.
“Nothing. Why?”
“I don’t know.” He turns sideways to look at me. “You have a mean little grin on your face.”
I snort and shake my head, definitely not going to tell him what I’m thinking.
“I saw that you’re readingTo Kill a Mockingbird.” Desperate to change the subject, I latch onto the only thing that comes to mind.
“I like it.” He nods. “I reread it now and then.”
“Really?” That surprises me.
“Yeah.”
“Nice.” And here we are again, staring at each other, with that whole awkward kiss and even more awkward regret thing between us. “I’m gonna…” I wave my hand at my room and rush by him before he can respond. I left my book out on the apothecary table last night, and I feel stupid for ducking into my room for safety. So, I grab the first book from my shelf that I get my hands on and go back out to the loveseat. Gideon is looking at his phone, and then as I sit down and toss the other book aside in case he’s paying attention, he disappears into his room.
This sucks. How am I going to keep this from Chloe? Crushing on someone and then being let down this way—with a consolation prize—is like getting your hand slapped when you reach for a cookie and then getting a piece of fruit, instead. We’ve shared this kind of frustration for years, and now, I’m going to have to bottle it up and pretend everything’s fine.
Gideon comes back, dressed in shorts with the same t-shirt he was wearing earlier. I give him a quick once over, thankful and bummed that he’s not wearing those sweats again. The ones that are snug in all the right places.
He snags the book and goes across the room without a word.
I don’t read. I can’t. Instead, I toss the book I brought out from the bedroom to the floor and play games on my phone. I text a few friends from work. Even Mel. He’s at a concert tonight with friends, and he promises to send me pictures. Mel and I are friends, and now that Gideon’s kissed me and obviously decided he didn’t like it, I wonder if I made Mel feel that way when I turned him down for another date. I mean, we had an okay time, but hanging out with him didn’t feel like it does with Gideon.
Just my luck. I have a thing for a temporary houseguest. I would rather sit at home and read with him across the room than go out for dinner with a perfectly nice guy who’s made it clear he’s interested.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but I’ve played several rounds of a puzzle game when I hear Gideon in the kitchen. It’s getting dark outside; the sun is falling low, its rays striking the big glass window of an alterations shop across the street.
Gideon grabs a snack and goes back to his corner of the apartment. Fifteen minutes later, he’s back in the kitchen for a drink of water. Next, it’s the bathroom. Frustrated with myself for paying so much attention to him, I sigh and drop my phone to my lap. Maybe I should watch a movie. The trouble with that is the TV is on that side of the apartment.
I wonder how long he plans to stay.
Not that I want him gone, but it’s hard to live so close to someone after kissing happens. I would feel weird going over there now to turn on the TV.
“What’re you reading?”
His voice is low and gruff again, and I feel it slide over me like his warm breath over my lips last night.
“I’m not,” I admit. “Playing games on my phone.”
He grins. “Do you play trivia games?”
“No, but I’m sure you do,” I say with a smile.
