Chapter 22 Selene
TWENTY-TWO
SELENE
I told myself I was going to stay at my apartment tonight. Sleep in my own bed, cook my own dinner, and curl up on my couch to binge watch a new series on Netflix. Same as always.
It wasn’t easy, but I did it. I had to. Holt is all I can think about.
I’ve reached the point of no return. I know I have, but I haven’t been able to admit it out loud. I’m not a psychologist or anything, but I think I might be in the denial phase. Denial driven by fear.
Is that a stage reserved only for grief, though? Can grief be a stage for fear of falling for your best friend’s brother?
The thought of pursuing anything with Holt seriously past whatever it is that we’re doing is terrifying. Like diving off a cliff blindfolded. I just can’t do it.
At the same time, I can’t seem to stay away from him.
Over the past days or weeks, however long it’s been, my body hasn’t stopped burning for him.
Every inch is now overcome by the memory of Holt’s touch.
My nipples still remember the flick of his fingers.
My pussy still remembers the feeling of his tongue lapping against it.
My neck is haunted by the pleasant torture of his teeth sinking into my flesh.
The desire to keep going down this path with Holt is only made worse by me staying at his place. I need distance for now.
Being back home, in my own space, brings me back down to earth.
While sitting on my loveseat, I tuck my legs under myself. My laptop sits in the same position on the end table that it’s been for the past several months since I finished my novel. I stare at it as if it’s mocking me. Taunting me.
I tap my finger on my knee, my mind filtering through every single chapter.
The way my characters started, the way they come together, pining and yearning over each other before they get their happily ever after.
I feel so disconnected from them, it’s hard for me to think about diving into their world again since I’ve been dipping into my pot of my feelings for Holt.
I bypass the laptop and pick up my phone instead.
I flip through social media before typing Holt’s name into a search engine.
Every local news channel has at least one story about him and his new relationship with the woman, who he supposedly met at the auction.
The woman he, quote, unquote, won. My stomach sours thinking that’s how the world sees me.
The woman who was won by the unattainable billionaire Holt Capuleti.
Like I’m some piece of his property that can be bought.
I scroll through endless pictures of us walking in and out of his building. The night he took me to the ballet. Us at the market. Even some of me on my way to my shift at Charleigh’s flower shop.
By myself.
An icy chill makes its way down my spine.
I close out the search results and toss my phone onto the couch just as there’s a knock on my door. Sitting upright, my heart races. No one ever comes to my apartment. Ever. Not even my sister.
I smooth my hair and bounce off the couch before opening the front door.
Holt is standing on the other side, looking good. Too good in his black suit and black tie. His eyes wander along my body before they drop to my mouth. Suddenly, I’m conscious of my appearance. I really should have taken a shower after yoga instead of vegging out on the sofa.
“Hey.” I exhale sharply.
He stands at the threshold, gripping the doorframe, unmoving. I’ve barely furrowed my brow before he’s claiming my mouth. He cradles my head in his hands and kisses me like he hasn’t kissed me in days, weeks, even months.
He groans into our kiss, and I somehow step back, gripping the back of his arm.
“Holt.” I search his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I missed you today.”
I laugh but soon stop. I haven’t forgotten how confusing this all is for someone who doesn’t fall in love. For a woman like me who doesn’t have those deep, visceral, life changing feelings for someone else.
“Wait,” I say when he kisses me again. “Wait, wait, Holt.” I gently push him away.
He reluctantly breaks our connection but keeps his hands wrapped around my face. My skin quickly grows cold the moment he does as I ask and drops them at his sides.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his eyes scanning my apartment.
Fuck, I just realized this is the first time he’s been here since the night he showed up when I was drunk. This may be the second time he’s been here ever, but this time is different. I’m sober and aware of how different it is from his place.
He looks back at me.
His eyes burn for me as he works to catch his breath.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” I start, taking a nervous glance around. “It’s just… you’re here.”
“I’ve been here before.” He chuckles. “Remember?”
When I turn back to him, he’s admiring me before he gently brushes his fingers along my cheek as he tucks my hair behind my ear. I’m still sticky and slightly sweaty from my yoga class earlier, and suddenly very conscious of the way I look.
“Yeah.” I nod, agreeing. “But last time you were here, I was drunk, so I didn’t care as much.”
“Are you saying you care now?”
My stomach does that thing where it somersaults at least a thousand times when we’re together.
“No.” I laugh, playfully shoving his shoulder. “But I don’t think I’ll get over the shock of seeing you here.”
He catches my hand before I’m able to pull it away.
My smile drops, and breathing becomes difficult. Especially when he presses his lips to my knuckles.
After he plants a kiss to every single one, he says, “I thought I’d find you at my place when I got home. Can I be honest?”
I swallow thickly. “I get the feeling you’re going to be honest with me regardless of my answer.”
He smirks. “I was disappointed when you weren’t.”
I inhale a deep breath as he lowers my hand. He holds onto it, just barely, keeping the tips of our fingers tethered.
“I needed some time to think in my own space,” I tell him.
“Can I be honest again?”
I pop a brow, not giving him a verbal answer.
“I know you don’t do feelings…”
I drop my hand, the fear from earlier creeping back in. I take a hesitant step back, but Holt doesn’t relent. He maintains our distance, matching me step for step.
“Don’t say it,” I warn with a whisper.
“But I’ve caught them for you, Selene.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I feel like running in the opposite direction. This doesn’t feel the same as when Adam was standing in this same place covered in Dorito dust, telling me he wanted to marry me.
This time it’s different. My feet feel like two lead weights.
All the blood in my body has drained to them, and I feel lightheaded.
Panic sets in the longer I stare at Holt’s gorgeous face.
The way his brown hair rests just above his brow.
The way his eyes won’t stop staring at me.
The way those eyes make me feel like my entire body is bursting into flames.
“No, you haven’t.” I shake my head. “You’re only saying this because our fake relationship is doing so well in the media.” I gesture toward my phone. “I’ve seen all the headlines.”
“This was never for the headlines.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why?” He continues stepping closer to me. “Why do you not believe me?”
We’ve somehow made it farther down the small hallway toward my bedroom. The floor creaks under my every step, reminding me of how my apartment is literally falling apart, and so am I.
“Because you’re you.” I gesture toward him with my hand. “And I’m me.”
“That’s exactly why you should believe me.” He grabs my hand again and pulls me to his chest.
I relax against him, gasping with the electricity between us. It’s as if we’ve completed a circuit, his touch coursing through my veins. “Holt, I’ve seen you with other women. You talk about me not wanting to be in a relationship, but you’ve never seemed to want to be in one either.”
“Right.” His nostrils flare as he takes a heated breath. I can tell I’ve hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. “Sounds exactly like what Julianna says to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I start. “I didn’t mean to hurt you by saying that, but it’s the truth. You’re Holt Capuleti.”
“I know.” His eyes find mine again. This time, it’s like I can see straight into his soul.
“I may have jumped from woman to woman in the past, but what else was I going to do? You were my sister’s best friend, and no one ever had faith in me to ever be loyal to anyone, especially not you.
But the truth is, I never fell for any of them because I had already fallen for you a long time ago. ”
“Why are you telling me this right now?” I press my hand to my stomach, forcing myself to remain calm.
“Because I couldn’t keep fake dating you with you thinking it has always been pretend.
You honestly think that everything between us has been for show?
If that were the case, I wouldn’t be here, wanting you, kissing you.
We wouldn’t have done what we did in the elevator on our first date, or anywhere else after for that matter.
” He gestures around the room. “There’s no one here. No cameras. Just us.”
Tears swell behind my eyes. I refuse to let them spill, instead keeping them at bay by chewing on the inside of me cheek until it hurts. “I can’t.”
“It’s okay, Wallflower.” He presses his hand to my face, his thumb rests just below my eye, and his fingers thread through my disheveled hair.
“You don’t have to say anything right now.
I don’t know what happened to you to believe love only exists in romance novels, but I’m patient.
I trust you’ll tell me at some point. I just couldn’t go another day without you knowing how I feel about you.
Especially after today. Even if me telling you this only makes you want to run in the opposite direction or end whatever this is what we’re doing.
I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me at this point. ”