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Um?
Bull. Shit.
“Try four years, Andre.” Suddenly, it’s not hard to keep up, because I’m powered along by a rush of rage and despair. This will be the fastest time I’ve run in ages. “Fouryears, not one bad night. Don’t you get that it hurts, loving someone who doesn’t want you back? Don’t you see how pathetic I feel?”
And my eyes are blurry, and there’s a lump in my throat, so I do what I always do. I keep running, and wish with all my soul that somehow I could leave this all behind.
“You’re wrong.”
“Excuse me?”
It would be bad if I pushed him off the cliff. Very bad.
“That’s not our situation. You don’t love someone who doesn’t want you back.”
Finally, my steps slow to a walk.
As soon as I stop running, my muscles seize up and ache like a bitch, but I barely notice. I’m too busy grabbing my neighbor’s t-shirt and yanking him to a stop. “Explain.”
My knuckles brush against the toned swell of his chest through his shirt. Andre’s not breathing hard, but the wind has tugged strands of his dark hair loose.
He raises his arms, then lets them smack against his sides. “You’re so young, Faith.”
Ugh. As if I can help that fact. “I’m twenty three. An adult, thank you. And for the record, last night aged me by about a decade.”
“Still,” Andre says, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re still so young. Too young for me.”
But there’s something about his clenched jaw, his tense shoulders, and that hot gaze boring into me, willing me to understand…
Oh.Oh.
“You want me,” I say stupidly. In my defense, I am bright red and sweaty from running, and I’m wearing bike shorts and a frayed blue tank top. This makes zero sense.
“Of course I want you.” He sounds pissy again. Like it’s so obvious. “But like I said, I’m too old for you. If you still feel this way in a few years—”
“A fewyears?”
“Then we can talk about it,” Andre says. Mister Reasonable over here.
“A few years!”
“Yes,” he says, eyebrows lowered. So stubborn.
And maybe I should be mad, or sad, or howling at the skies, but all I can think is: there’s hope. There’s really hope, and I’m not insane to feel this way. I’m not alone in this crush.
Suddenly, I’m not aching anymore. My body feels light, buoyant, like a gust of wind could lift me up to play in the clouds.
Biting my lip, I step closer to my neighbor.
My gorgeous older neighbor, whowantsme. Damn.
“Faith,” Andre warns, but he doesn’t step back. His gaze has sharpened, and there’s a hungry cast to his face. His hands flex by his sides. How did I not notice this before? The careful way he moves around me; the way his eyes track wherever I go. The possessive way he always warns off other men with a scowl…
Oh, this is gonna be fun.
“What if I don’t want to wait?” I ask sweetly.
A muscle leaps in Andre’s jaw. His nostrils flare as he breathes in, and there’s a long pause before he answers. “Try.”
