Chapter 20
I catch his rattled reflection in the mirror and whirl around, my lungs inflating to triple their size from the long breath I take.
“What’s wrong?” he asks with a bite to his tone that does nothing but taunt me.
Rolling my eyes, I look away from him. “Oh, I don’t know. Are you sure I don’t just look dehydrated?”
“I was being thoughtful. Don’t you want to be sober for this astonishing date? I assumed you’d want to remember it.”
That dig chafes more than I was expecting.
Instead of replying, I spin on my heels and stalk to the furthest sink.
Cold water rushes out of the faucet, and I shove my hands beneath the stream, letting the chill work through me.
Finn doesn’t move as he watches, but his stare doesn’t retreat.
It remains heavy on me, poking and prodding as I glare into the mirror, hating how worked up I am.
“I didn’t need you to follow me into the bathroom!
” I snap, a shudder working down my spine.
With a flick of my eyes, I glare at his reflection.
“And I don’t need you to micromanage my water intake.
I’m a grown woman who can ensure I don’t wind up sloshed on a first date.
Especially one that’s actually going well for a change. ”
“You don’t have to tell me how well it’s going. I can see that myself.”
I don’t dare remove my fingers from the freezing water, even when they start burning. “So then why are you butting in? I didn’t give any sort of signal for you to interfere.”
“I’m your best friend, Aubrey. I was just looking out for you!”
His composure slips. For a single second, I watch as the muscles in his jaw pulse and his vibrant blue eyes darken, tightening at the corners. The flash of his tongue moves across his lips before disappearing again. I lean against the counter hard enough it bites into my hips.
With a blink, he pulls his shoulders back with what I know has to be false ease.
The tips of his fingers rake anxiously through his hair, and those messy pieces stick right back up from where they’ve fallen, recreating the style I spotted earlier.
Realization shoots through me as I yank my hands from the sink.
“Well, knock it off,” I force out while my stomach pitches.
His laugh is short and humourless. “Easier said than done.”
“No, it isn’t. This is a date, Finn! It’s actually going well, too. For the first time in a really, really long time, I haven’t shooed this one away or been repulsed by his behaviour. That’s a good thing!”
“Yeah, that’s great, Aubrey. But I’m still going to look after you.”
He crosses his arms, and my anger could turn the water on my fingers to steam when I’m drawn to the stretched sleeves of his shirt.
His biceps bunch tightly with the movement, and I can’t swallow my laugh in time.
It’s cruel when it explodes out of me. I drop my head back and stare at the speckled ceiling.
The moisture pooling between my legs mocks me, coaxing my sense of self-loathing.
“What?” His shoes squeak against the floor. “I’m serious.”
I turn from him and start reefing on the paper towel holder with wet fingers. “Maybe it would be a better idea if you went home.”
“Why?”
“I don’t need a babysitter. We can both assume this is going to be a good date.”
I hear him suck in a breath through his teeth. “So what, then? You don’t want me here because you’re planning on going home with him after?”
With a sharp tug, I rip off a wad of paper towel and scrunch it in my fist. The warning voice in the back of my skull is telling me not to say anything I can’t take back, but it’s overshadowed with booming bitterness.
I don’t want to be offended by his question, yet I am, and I hate it.
I hate too much of what I’ve been thinking and feeling for the last week, but especially tonight, because I can’t entertain any of it.
Whatever’s going on with me isn’t healthy. It isn’t right. These feelings—or whatever the fuck they are—shouldn’t belong to me.
I don’t know why they’re here, suddenly beckoning me closer to the man whom I’ve always kept firmly in a platonic bubble.
The reasoning doesn’t even matter. What does is that they need to disappear before I do something that jeopardizes two decades of friendship.
I couldn’t live with myself if I lost him.
“Maybe. I wouldn’t exactly mind it,” I state, utterly calm.
Finn’s hand finds his nape as he wrings it and laughs hollowly. “Should I expect your thanks now, then, or in the morning?”
“Go home, Finn.”
“You don’t have to rush this,” he says, taking a single step closer and pointing at the bathroom door. “If going back out there and finishing this date will make you happy, then fine. But you don’t need to rush into anything just because you need a date to the gala. Please don’t go home with him.”
My throat squeezes beneath the weight of an invisible hand. I almost can’t look at him once his posture goes slack, and that scowl relaxes into a straight, blank line. The paper towel in my hands feels repulsive when I relax my fist and then drop it into the garbage.
I’d rather he yell at me. Would rather he do anything besides stare at me like he doesn’t care. Like I’m looking at him.
His cheeks are flushed, and I struggle to hide a flinch when he straightens again. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m probably too tired to be here anyway. Let me know when you get home so I don’t worry.”
“Thank you,” I blurt, swallowing thickly.
He forces a sharp chuckle that makes me wince. “Yeah, you’re so welcome.”
The gnawing in my stomach intensifies, and I lower a hand to press against it, hoping to soothe the pain. It doesn’t work. If anything, the pressure makes it ten times worse. Finn doesn’t spare me another glance before pulling open the door and stepping outside.
This time when the door swings back, it shuts with a bang that rattles my skull.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you up to the door? Or I could pull onto the driveway? It’s pretty dark.”
“No.” I don’t even have to think about it. “I’m okay. Thank you for the ride, though. It beat a stuffy Uber.”
Malik smiles softly at me as he nods and rubs a hand down my arm, his gentle touch lingering just long enough for my stomach to turn for the millionth time. It’s innocent and, to most women, I’m sure even romantic. A year ago, I would have felt that way about everything he’s done tonight.
For a first date, I have to admit that it was . . . perfect.
Not only was he attentive and kind, but he genuinely wanted to learn more about me.
After every topic we’d discuss or tidbit of information I’d share, he’d chime in with something incredibly responsive and thoughtful.
And during the brief moments of silence, it never felt like I was the one expected to come up with something to say.
He didn’t push for more hand holding or suggest I order something different to drink when I let my second martini grow warm and untouched on the table.
Tonight could have been the first night in a long list of nights spent with Malik.
Only despite the easy conversation and romantic behaviour, it was all wrong. A shade of perfect that has left my stomach in knots too bulky for me to ignore.
I should have taken a rideshare home instead of accepting his ride. And after I gave in to my hope that maybe outside of the restaurant, I’d feel normal again, it should have been my address that I rattled off to him when he asked.
The last place I should be is Finn’s house, but that doesn’t change the fact that the dark sidewalk we’re parked alongside is the very same one that I ran over the first time I backed out of his driveway.
It’s his SUV parked in front of his closed garage, and his burnt-out porch light responsible for the darkness spread across his front lawn.
I refuse to believe that he’s already gone to bed.
It wouldn’t change a thing even if he were, though.
I’m too wound up with a head full of the thousand things I need to say to him after our argument.
It’s rare that we ever fight, so when we do, it wrecks me.
I can’t think about anything besides fixing things before our issues fester and multiply.
He’s always been the most important person to me, and that’s as terrifying as it is reassuring.
“If you’re sure,” Malik says, moving his hand to his lap. “Is it too forward for me to ask if you’ve gotten my number from Finn? If not, I can absolutely give it to you before you go inside. Unless you’re not interested. There’s no pressure here, even if I’d love to see you again.”
I take a steadying breath and meet his friendly gaze. The wiggle of that ominous sense of wrongness seems to have multiplied in the time we’ve been sitting here. I tug at the lace sleeve of my dress and work to keep my lips turned up rather than down.
“You’re a really great guy, Malik. I hope you know that. Of all the dates I’ve been on in the last I don’t even know how long, this has been the best one by a landslide.”
“I’m sensing a but.” He smiles, though it’s not the same one I’ve seen plenty of tonight.
My head defies my heart, and I speak too quickly to think anything through. “There’s no but. I’ll take your number right now.”
The immediate relief that travels across his expression doesn’t help my guilt in the slightest. He uses confident hands and takes my phone when I hand it over with a shake in mine.
Once he’s finished, I take it back and all but dive out of his car.
With a white-knuckle grip on the side of the open door, I bend until I can look at him.
“Thank you again for tonight. It was nice meeting you.”
“You too, Aubrey. Good night.”
The awkward tension that’s been circling above me like a family of hungry crows disappears the moment I shut the door and turn away, facing Finn’s house.
It’s a different sensation creeping up on me now.
Nerves draw an icy cold line up my back, making me shiver as I take uneven steps up the sidewalk and past the driveway.
My heart’s pounding in my ears to an off-tempo beat that seems to grow more staggered the closer I get.
The white brick I love isn’t as inviting as it usually is.
Without the warm light shining through the front window, the porch feels cold and intimidating when I stop in front of the black door and stare at the gold knocker.
I move it without meaning to, focusing on the cold weight in my hand. Over and over again, I bring the knocker to the door and breathe in the night air. My lungs refuse to accept any of it, leaving me burning and burning instead—
“Aubrey?”
My heart twists. It jolts forward at his voice, then bangs against my rib cage when I register the body right in front of mine.
I can’t hide the pained, sharp inhale as I stare at the bare, sweaty expanse of his chest. The deep grooves of his abdomen and the slick, smooth skin over wide, curved shoulders.
Sparse blond hair leads my eyes back down the gap between his abs and to the twin lines that form a V ending beneath the thin workout shorts hanging off his hips like one rough movement would have them slipping off.
I gulp and tip my head back, forcing my gaze upward. It’s the instant worry in those beautiful, familiar eyes that has me moving. I don’t think about anything but getting closer. Couldn’t if I tried.
The air stills and then guides me forward as I plant a hand to his chest and push him inside.
He stumbles back as I prowl forward and glide my touch up to his neck.
I pull his head down, already staring at his lips when he parts them around words that morph into an empty breath fanning across my skin.
There’s no hesitation in his movements. No resistance as I palm his hip and wait, our bodies so, so close . . .
“Just once,” I murmur the warning to both of us.
His Adam’s apple bobs.
I push forward.
He dips his chin.
And I kiss him.