Chapter 6 #4
Lost in these thoughts, I washed my face and brushed my teeth before attempting to sort out my hair.
My bangs covered my scar while the rest of my hair fell nearly to the seat of my pants.
I made an attempt at detangling some of the knots but eventually gave up and left the bathroom, still in my tiger-print pajamas.
I knew Neil didn’t like these; he’d always told me that.
What did he call them?
Oh yeah… “Horrible.”
Well, I was going to show up in those “horrible” pj’s just to make it clear to him that I didn’t give a crap about his opinion.
I had to laugh at myself. All this pointless overthinking was only making me more nervous. So, instead, I decided to take the bull by the horns, get out of the bathroom and go find out if Neil had actually deigned to join us for the weekend.
I made my way to the kitchen with an uncertain stride, a battle raging inside me. The old me wanted to see him and greet him with kisses; the new me wanted nothing more than to hate him and forget all about it.
Neil caused all of this: anxiety, confusion, racing heart, and… I stopped.
I stopped midway through the living room when my eyes alighted upon a pair of broad shoulders covered in the bright red of a leather jacket.
Everything inside me twisted. My heart inexplicably fell into my stomach, and my breath caught in my lungs at the exact moment when he, all six-plus-feet of him, turned to me. Holding a bag of…pistachios?
I cocked my head to one side and actually touched my chest like a dummy just to make sure my heart was still in there pumping because I could feel it everywhere but where it was supposed to be.
His eyes locked on mine, and I remained inexplicably frozen, admiring my nemesis.
I stared into golden eyes that, in that moment, turned to velvet. His full lips turned my brain to mush, and his powerful body sent a voluptuous shiver of pleasure down to my lower stomach, and I blushed.
His eyes moved down to assess my outfit, polka-dotted socks included. Meanwhile, I studied his light brown hair, gently tousled on top and short on the sides.
His hair looked longer than the last time I’d seen him, and I wanted to run my fingers through it. Somehow, Neil was even more attractive than I’d remembered.
How many times had I imagined seeing him? How many times had I tried to relive our memories? But no mental reproduction of Neil could compare to the reality of seeing him right there, in the flesh, just a little ways away from me.
I met his eyes again, and he set down the bag of pistachios on the kitchen island. Then, he turned his attention to a few grocery bags right next to him that I hadn’t noticed before. He pulled some cans out and put them away in the cupboard.
He practically ignored me, breaking our fleeting eye contract much sooner than I’d expected.
It occurred to me that if I wanted to get to the fridge for the carton of milk, I was going to have to get closer to him, but I didn’t have the guts to take even one step in his direction.
Instead, I continued to watch Neil like a patron of the arts encountering a particularly spectacular and imposing sculpture for the first time.
Everything about him seemed to cry pure sex appeal, despite the layers of clothing that covered him.
His powerful neck exuded eroticism as it was exposed by the cut of his white sweatshirt.
The muscles in his arms exuded eroticism as they jumped with every movement.
His raised veins exuded eroticism as they ran along the back of his hands, proceeded along his wrist, and branched out through his body.
His firm ass and masculine, well-favored legs exuded eroticism even wrapped in blue jeans.
His curated stubble—perfect as the rest of his face—exuded eroticism as it shadowed his powerful jaw.
With all of those features, Neil didn’t need to show an inch of skin to inspire one particular feeling in women: desire.
“Are you going to just keep standing there, or are you going to give me a hand?”
I sucked in a breath at his voice, a firm baritone that simultaneously scraped my skin and caressed my senses. I watched as his eyes trailed down to my pajamas. He tried to hide the sensual smile that only made him more undeniably attractive, and I immediately knew what he was thinking.
He thought I was preposterous.
“What are you smirking about?” I finally asked.
I didn’t sound as hostile as I would have liked, but at least I didn’t stammer.
Neil rested his hands on the kitchen island and leaned forward slightly, exposing the muscled perfection he hid under his sweater.
My eyes luxuriated in his amber skin and, for a few moments, I didn’t need to blink.
The irritating chaos in my stomach once again made me give up on leaving the spot where, apparently, I had taken root. I no longer felt hungry, and I’d lost the ability to move my body, so now discomfort was the strongest thing I felt.
Neil rounded the island, and, as he did, I realized I wouldn’t be able to handle it if he got too close to me. I had never understood why he had such a devastating effect on me but I was acutely aware of the fact that this human disaster had the accursed ability to enchant me completely.
He approached me slowly and then stopped. I leaned my head back to shift my stare from his chest to his lush lips to the bewitching eyes that were, in turn, staring fixedly at my face. At my forehead, to be precise.
I breathed in his smell, the same one that had invaded all the space around us. The same one I’d sensed in the hospital. The same one he left on me every time we made love.
Then he raised a hand to push aside my bangs and get a look at my scar. “It’s hardly noticeable,” he said. I should have backed up, slapped his hand away, or hurled some insult at him, but instead…
All I could think about was how much I had missed his touch.
I was near tears because the emotions of the moment were overwhelming and they were beating back my good sense.
After a moment, though, I was able to break the trance and get up the nerve to step back. I couldn’t help but notice that he looked as disappointed as I did.
Just as a little part of me had expected, Neil was right there in front of me, and now I needed to keep my wits about me and not lose focus. I needed to understand what had really gone on between us.
“Don’t touch me,” I ordered, harsh and assertive.
Neil frowned and retreated without giving any hint of what he was thinking.
For my part, I wanted to make sure that he understood he couldn’t work his magic on me the way he did on all the other women.
He’d ghosted me without so much as a single text or call.
“I just wanted…” He positioned himself behind the kitchen island, and I could breathe again.
“I wanted to see how you’re doing.” He grasped a jar of Nutella in one hand and turned away from me to put it in the cupboard.
He looked tense now and irritated. Still holding my body stiff, I approached him in tiny steps, careful to maintain a distinct distance between us.
I didn’t trust myself nor the feelings I had whenever our eyes intersected.
Did he really want to know how I was doing?
Did he just now think of it?
“Bit late to be asking, don’t you think? You haven’t called or even sent a single text to suggest you were concerned about me!” I said. “Not a single one, Neil,” I repeated.
All my insecurity had vanished to make way for the anger that I’d been trying to suppress for days now.
Neil narrowed his eyes until they looked like two smoldering blades, and then he gave me a mocking smile.
“I’ve been busy,” he volleyed back arrogantly. Then he just went back to stowing the groceries in the cupboards and pretended that I wasn’t even there.
“For sure, you were busy. I can only imagine the kind of commitments you had. And, after all, I’m nothing and no one to you!” I snapped.
I couldn’t even recognize myself. No longer was I the reasonable, docile girl who would never raise her voice at anyone. Neil turned to face me, and the icy glare he sent my way was nothing short of terrifying. Still, I held his gaze confidently and stared him down.
Something seemed to waver inside him. It looked to me like his typical arrogant disregard was getting mixed up with something else.
“Selene,” he said softly, and he looked pained. He bit down slightly on his lower lip, and I wondered how many other girls had kissed him since we’d last met. How many had touched and stroked him?
My self-assurance was wavering, getting ready to abandon me to my true emotions.
And what was it that I really felt? Jealousy.
Mostly, I pitied myself. How could I be jealous over a man who didn’t even belong to me? And yet…
My gaze sank down to the floor. It was too hard for me just then to hold his stare.
“You really don’t get it,” he continued. A few seconds later, I could feel him standing in front of me again. I didn’t bother lifting my face to look. The smell of him declared his proximity.
“I do get it, though. You don’t care about me.” I was confident in the words, but my voice trembled, and he grabbed my chin, lifting it until my eyes were forced to lock on his.
I let him do it.
I read sincere shock in his golden eyes along with a tumultuous darkness that made me go weak in the knees.
And maybe dying would have hurt less.
Could you be hurt just from looking into a man’s eyes?
“Is that what you think?” he murmured in surprise.
“Could I think otherwise?” I asked challengingly.
His stare shifted to my lips, and the suffering that flickered across his face made me feel terribly guilty.
How could he turn the tables on me so easily?
I was the one who had been let down and was angry; I was the one who was hurt.