13. Then
THIRTEEN
then
My loft felt emptier than usual that night.
It was one of those trendy places on the West Side, designed to feel big and bare. Usually, I liked it. What the fuck was my problem?
I thought about going out, working out, jacking off. None of it appealed to me.
Well, mostly. I considered using the thought of Ella to get myself off. The way her body felt when I held her on the street made my cock twitch.
But every time I thought of her, the way she acted after dinner stopped me cold.
I stared up at the ceiling over my bed, unable to shake the image of her face when she told me she could walk the last two blocks to work alone. And I felt worried .
She seemed afraid. Of me.
My mind reeled, trying to figure out why . Before, I thought maybe she just wasn’t into me. But she asked me to come to dinner with her. And she gave me her number, then told me to “catch” her.
Was it all a game?
That would be fun, under normal circumstances. But, for some reason, I didn’t want to play.
The way I felt when she suddenly left me in the middle of the Village sealed it—I wasn’t messing around here. I wanted her, badly enough to go out on a limb as many times as it would take to have her.
Something told me Ella wouldn’t put me through some sort of obstacle course for no reason. The fear I saw on her face felt genuine. When I pulled her body close to mine, she actually trembled. That couldn’t have been part of some act.
I trusted her. In a weird, overwhelming sort of way. I couldn’t imagine her ever doing anything to purposefully confuse or upset anyone.
So that meant she was truly afraid. There was only one way to find out why.
Her phone rang five times before she picked up. “Gray?”
For the first time since our walk, I smiled, loving that there were no other guys out there with 212 area codes calling her. “How’d you know?”
I heard her shifting around and tried to imagine what her room looked like. Some bombed-out hole-in-the-wall in Bushwick, built for students, that she shared with her friend from the train .
But I imagined her room would be colorful and warm and covered in knitting. Just like her.
“Guess I’m not cool enough to give my number out to multiple strangers in one day,” she sighed. “And I don’t think I know anyone else who would call me this late.”
Something about the softness of her voice set off the alarm bells in my head. “Are you okay?”
She paused for a second too long. “I’m all right. Work was long and—” She exhaled static into the line. “I’m fine, though.”
I only heard all the things she didn’t say. “And…?”
A small snort came through the receiver. “You’ll laugh at me,” she warned.
I wanted to hear her laugh. “If I do, I’ll do it quietly. According to you, I’m a gentleman.”
Except when I’m thinking about your hips. Or your skin.
“Uh-huh.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. She clearly knew better. After a long pause, she gave in. “It’s um… it’s the sky, actually.”
And, yeah. I did not know how to respond to that.
“The sky?”
She rushed on, trying to get her words out quickly. “Back home, I always liked to look out at the sky before bed, to see the moon and the stars. It was— My dad was an astronomy researcher. So, I think I did it to feel close to him. Sort of. Anyway. There’s a harvest moon tonight, and I missed its rise because I was at work, so I knew it wouldn’t be at its fullest, but I just looked out my window and?—”
Her voice choked off, too embarrassed or upset to go on. I understood her anyway. “You can’t see it, can you?”
The city lights. Their glare made stargazing impossible. For a New Yorker like me, it was no big deal. I never got used to starry nights.
But Ella was, and she missed them.
And I actually knew what she was trying to say. “You’re homesick. ”
Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Yeah.”
I thought of her in that cramped, warm room, looking out at a blank sky, missing her father. I could tell from the lilt of sadness in her voice that it wasn’t an ordinary sort of missing—that it was a bigger, more permanent kind. He must have passed away.
“I’m sorry.”
I’d never meant those two words as much as I did in that moment. Ella could tell. “You know,” she said, quiet but sweet. “Most people say that because they have to, but… I believe you, Gray.”
The sinking, soaring feeling swelled up inside me again, bursting until my throat felt blocked. It dazed and terrified me how the smallest change in her demeanor—a determined slant to her jaw, a pensive sigh, her little laugh—could send me careening toward this unknown cliff.
“You called me Gray,” I pointed out, hunting for a subject to cheer her up. “No one else ever has.”
For a second, I swore I could hear Ella bite her lip. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll stop. It’s just what I’ve been calling you in my head for some reason.”
I meant to tease her, but my voice came out too rough. “Don’t stop.”
Her answer sounded breathy. “I won’t.” Then, her tone dropped lower. “Gray.”
Despite all my efforts, my dick hardened instantly. Even so, I found myself with the same dumb grin she always inspired. “Say it again.”
She gave another small giggle. “Gray.”
My face hurt from smiling. “God. I like that way too much.”
“I like it, too,” she admitted, back to sighing. “Gray…”
I waited. If she was ever going to trust me enough to tell me why the idea of us together upset her, I had to give her space. That was part of trusting her.
“I don’t—” She shifted, and I heard a mattress squeal. “I want you to be happy.”
Again, I read the anxiety shadowing her words and heard all the ones she didn’t say. “You think you’re making me un happy?
She spoke through her teeth, probably chewing her lower lip some more. “No. Not yet. But I think… I could, accidentally. Or I would, eventually. I don’t know how to explain it.”
I tried to imagine how. Ella, with her perfect peachy skin and her silky blonde hair and the sapphire eyes. Ella—funny when she meant to be sharp, and intelligent in her shy, quiet way. Genuine. Gorgeous. Would I ever be near her and feel unhappy?
“Not possible,” I decided.
“No, seriously,” she argued. “I’m not—I just don’t think I can be what you’re looking for.”
The urge to argue sprang up. It took me a minute to calm myself enough to speak evenly. “Ella. You are what I’m looking for. And you said you’d give me a chance. Can I see you tomorrow?”
I held my breath while she hesitated. “I work until two tomorrow.”
Without even a thought, I found myself saying, “Okay. I’ll meet you there at two.”
She hesitated. “Okay…”
“Okay.” I nodded, hoping my own determination would somehow seep into her through the phone. “I’m going to hang up now before you can talk either of us out of it.”
Grinning like an idiot, I killed the call.