Chapter 12 Multicellularity and Development #2
He inhaled deeply, his gaze moving to some spot over my shoulder.
“Let’s see, what else? Uh, like you, I prefer old movies.
But I do not enjoy any modern TV shows or films. For me, they seem to lack a compelling story, always impatient, going too fast, never deep enough.
Never taking the time to make characters real people with real problems. In general, I prefer books.
Also, I do not know anything about cars—how to fix them, not even how to change a tire—and I cannot fix anything mechanical.
Not a faucet, nothing electrical. I am useless, in this way.
In an apocalypse, I would be one of the first to die, whereas I think you are the opposite.
I have no life skills, but I do have an intense survival instinct, which gets in my way just as often as it serves me well. ”
As I listened, it dawned on me that he was doing what I’d done when we first lived together. Andreas was listing his most unattractive traits, offering up his worst qualities for my inspection.
“I have never gone on a hike or gone camping and do not wish to do so. I do not like the outdoors or ‘nature.’”
“That’s interesting, because you seem to like animals so much.”
He shrugged. “In this way, I do not make sense. I love animals. I do not enjoy their natural habitat, though I do believe it should be protected. And Central Park is fine for walks, but I have never exercised for the sake of a workout outside of a gym. I am particular about what I wear, what material touches my skin, what products I use. I am . . . fussy about my appearance.”
I stroked my chin. “I have suspected for a while that you are a metrosexual.”
He frowned. “What does that word mean? I have never heard that word.”
“It’s a type of human taxonomy,” I deflected, anxious for him to continue. “So, what else?”
His gaze moved over my shoulder again as he continued his recitation of faults.
“I know I can be impatient, dismissive, and lack compassion for people who do not catch on to complex ideas and issues quickly. I am too intellectual, too much in my head, and do not enjoy the messy complications of the world. I have always viewed them as burdensome. They make me weary.”
“Does anyone enjoy the messy complications of the world?” I asked, trying to keep things light.
He seemed to give the question real thought before responding earnestly, “I think some people do, who thrive on instigating drama and chaos. Take my brother Henrik, for example. I believe he enjoys the messiness of life, but does not enjoy the intellectualism of philosophy, self-reflection, or self-improvement.”
I tried not to smile. “My question was rhetorical.”
“Ah. See? I took it literally.” Andreas’s tightlipped smile struck me as self-deprecating, and he glanced down at his shoes.
“Related, I know I can be cold and unfeeling toward people who wish to take up my time, which is why—I believe—all my previous attempts at a romantic relationship have failed before they even started. I never engaged in one-night stands or friends with benefits or hookups because I do not trust people. I have been some level of famous since before I was of age. Being careful seemed more important than my physical . . . desires.”
I nodded, absorbing this, a puzzle piece clicking into place that I hadn’t realized I was looking for.
I hadn’t questioned Andreas’s lack of experience, but I think part of me always found it unbelievable.
He was an incredibly attractive guy who could cook.
Not to mention, Andreas possessed impeccable manners, was obviously intelligent, wealthy, and famous-ish.
He would have no problem finding a quality hook-up, if he so chose.
But as he’d said, the messiness of real life made him weary.
“Related, I prefer the company of animals to people. Generally, again, I do not know how to trust people, not really, and my instinct is always to keep my thoughts to myself rather than share them.”
This last confession hooked me so deeply, I took a step closer to him and lowered my voice. “Why? Why is that your instinct, do you think?”
His gaze lifted to mine again, held. “Because I am boring. And I do not wish to bore people.”
“I do not find you boring.” I didn’t think about the words before saying them. They were simply the truth.
He smiled at me. “And I do not find you abrupt or judgy.”
I couldn’t help my answering grin. He’d remembered my self-proclaimed list of unattractive qualities. Of course he did.
Andreas shook his head. “I am uncertain how to have a relationship with someone that is not transactional, and that includes colleagues and friends. I do not feel comfortable with a person, even as a friend, if I do not feel certain that I am in the stronger position, the more generous one in the relationship. I do not want to be in someone’s debt.
And I realize this is a wall I put between myself and others.
I am uncertain how to . . . change this about myself. ”
Andreas twisted his lips to the side, a rueful expression, one of resignation and perhaps a little melancholy.
It was, honestly, sexy as hell. The twist of his generous lips made me want to bite them. But I couldn’t do that.
Clearing my throat, I gathered a deep breath to unclutter my thoughts. “Okay. Anything else?”
I tore my gaze from his handsome face. But then—unable to help myself—my eyes sought him out again immediately.
Andreas seemed to consider the matter for a beat, then said, “That is all. For now. But if I think of other points, may I text them to you?”
I couldn’t not smile at that. “Yes.”
His mouth twitched, the tiniest possible curve, and his eyes seemed to twinkle mischievously. “So, that means you can receive my text messages? Am I unblocked?”
I tongued my back molar, fighting a new grin. He was sneaky, I’d give him that. Offering to text me more of his flaws was the perfect way to guarantee I wouldn’t block his number again.
“I just thought of another one,” I said.
“What is it?”
“You’re sneaky. And calculating.”
He pondered this, then asked, “Is that unattractive, though?”
I laughed, and it felt unburdened. “Look at you, telling jokes.”
He laughed, too, and the sound was so much softer and lighter than my heart had been prepared for.
For a moment, we simply stood together, looking at each other, our surroundings becoming a shapeless backdrop.
I wanted to say so many things I knew I shouldn’t.
He’d handed over more parts of himself. Bigger pieces.
But what happened next between us, I couldn’t guess.
Andreas’s eyebrows pulled together and he broke the silence abruptly. “I miss you.”
The words hit me with a force that was almost physical, which is probably why I said, “I miss you, too,” before I could stop the impulse.
He moved closer, as if he couldn’t help it, as though we were magnetized, and his gaze dropped to my mouth. His hands came out of his pockets, lifted slowly. My chest tightened.
“Samantha—”
“I have to go.” I gained a step back, not yet ready for this—whatever it was—and so I held up my hands to stop his advance.
He nodded, swallowing thickly and also stepping back, accepting the boundary. “Okay. I understand. Have a nice evening, Samantha.”
“You too, Andreas.”
Slowly, I turned and walked away, away from the VIP waiting area and to the elevator bank. Tara pressed the call button and I listened as my security detail fell in step with me as we boarded the lift.
As soon as the doors closed, I pulled out my phone, scrolled to my blocked numbers list, and unblocked Andreas’s number. Then, on impulse, I added him as a contact.