Chapter Ten - Cullen
CHAPTER TEN
CULLEN
N ow this is what I missed about the city.
I sip on my soda, merely enjoying the opportunity to trace the smooth lines of Verity’s face with my eyes as she sways side to side on the balls of her feet, anxiously waiting for our slices to come out of the oven.
I’d hesitated for a moment when she sent me her location, torn between wanting to see her and not wanting to impede on her space. I wasn’t sure if it would be weird for me to just show up or if it would turn her off.
It’s hard to resist Verity. She pulls me in like the moon does the tide.
“Here you go.” One of the employees slides two paper plates with steaming hot square pizza slices across the glass counter to us. His fingers have barely left the plates before Verity scoops them up.
“Thank you!” she chimes as she rushes back to the dinky metal two-top I parked myself at.
She doesn’t even spare me a glance, just pushes the margherita slice vaguely in my direction before picking up her vodka sauce slice and taking a huge bite.
“Oh my God, this is perfect. Just what I needed after all that tequila.”
I stifle a laugh at how cute she is.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“How’s yours? Can I try some? I feel like you can always tell if a pizza place is good by their margherita pizza. Kind of like how you can tell if a bakery is good based on their chocolate chip cookie. The staples are sort of the benchmark.”
A deep chuckle escapes me. I haven’t even taken a bite yet, but I nudge the plate over to her. “Go for it.”
She happily swaps her slice for mine, humming as she gives it a taste.
I wasn’t even hungry to start with. I’d just wanted some sort of an excuse to keep spending time with her, and this was the only thing I could think of other than inviting her back to my hotel room–which my dick wasn’t opposed to, but went against the four-date rule Verity had.
“Which is better?” I ask her.
“The vodka. I like how it has the penne pasta on it. You want to try it?”
“Sure.” I tug her paper plate closer and pick up the slice, taking a bite.
“I said try it, not devour it. God, just how big are your bites?”
“Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”
She lets out a tsk and pulls her plate back to her edge of the table. “No more for you.”
It’s funny. The more I get to know her, the more her walls come down. She is often nervous and rambling, but as each day passes, she relaxes more around me. As we get to know each other further, I find out little things that just click with who I am.
She is someone who enjoys going out but doesn’t need to always be around people. She has an easygoing, sweet personality, but that doesn’t mean she can’t throw a punch when it comes down to it. She’s tossed out more than a handful of snarky comebacks that have impressed me.
I don’t want to compare her to my ex, but they are both ambitious and creative, placing a lot of value and pride in their careers.
The difference is, whereas my ex had ended up narcissistic and vindictive, Verity has this breezy softness and selfless intention.
She hasn’t let the city harden her shell and I find comfort in that.
There’s a sense of safety I feel when I’m around her, like I don’t have to be on guard.
She nudges my ankle with her foot.
“How many more days until you move here?”
“Two weeks, give or take. Why? You miss me when I’m not here?”
My teasing words have the exact effect I expected. Her cheeks turn a rosy color, not dissimilar to her pizza, and she lets out a mock scoff.
“No. I was just wondering. No hidden meaning.”
“Too bad. I miss seeing you.”
“Really? Even though it’s only been a week?”
“A week, a day, a month. I feel the distance all the same.”
She smiles and plays with the ends of her ponytail. “I like it when you say stuff like that.”
“I have plenty more sappy truths where that came from.”
“Yeah?”
“And a couple dirty ones.”
She reaches across the table and lightly whacks my hand with the back of her fingers. “Way to ruin the moment.”
I give her an unabashed grin.
She pulls back and starts tearing off pieces of her pizza crust. “Tell me three things.”
“Open category?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Okay.” I lean back in the uncomfortable chair, resting my elbow on the top. “One, I hate black olives. Two, I broke my collarbone in eighth grade. Three–”
“Wait, how’d you break your collarbone?”
“Lacrosse.” And it hurt like a fucking bitch. The rehab time on a broken collarbone is no joke.
“I never pictured lacrosse as that violent a sport, but go on.”
“Don’t diss lacrosse.” I reach out and snag one of her mutilated pieces of pizza crust and pop it in my mouth. “And three, I stole a street sign in college and never got caught.”
“Wait. You mean, like, the green part?”
“No, the whole pole.”
She stops mutilating her pizza crust and blinks at me for a few seconds. “What? How? Why?”
“There was a street near campus called Cullen Drive, and a buddy of mine drove a pickup truck, and there was a lot of beer involved–on my part, not the guy driving the truck.”
“Oh my God, you are such a guy. Stealing a street sign because it has your name. Seriously.”
“What, are you saying if you saw a sign that was for Verity Place, you wouldn’t think about taking it?”
“I mean, I’d think about it. I wouldn’t do it though.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never done anything illegal in my entire life.”
“Really?” I drawl. “Nothing illegal ever?”
“Nope.”
“Have you crossed the street when it says no walking?”
“Okay, I’ve never done anything legit illegal.”
I want to doubt her, but I can also see Verity as the kind of person who tries to live life by the book as much as possible. She isn’t the type of person who naturally likes to rock the boat; she prefers to just cruise and sail on by when possible.
“Fine, what are your three things?”
She reaches out and grabs my soda, taking a gulp as she thinks for a second. “One, I’ve dislocated my toe three times. Two, I once watered a cactus for a month before realizing it was fake. Three, I love black olives.”
“I would like to say the most concerning part of that is you not knowing the difference between a real and fake plant, but it’s actually your love of black olives.”
“First, the cactus thing was not my fault. Second, black olives are delicious and you’re delusional.”
“How was the cactus thing not your fault?”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Because my friend told me to look after her plants, so I assumed all her plants were alive.”
“I don’t know, Verity. Are you sure you have twenty-twenty vision?” I scoot my chair to the side so I’m closer to her and hold up two fingers. “How many fingers do you see?”
“Very funny.”
“Are you not answering because you’re unsure?”
She reaches out and grasps my fingers. “Two, you ass.”
I lean forward, closing the distance between us. “That was cheating.”
“Not cheating when I have perfect vision.”
“You sure?”
She presses in even more, leaving only a few inches between our faces. “Does it look like I’m lying?”
“I don’t know.” My voice turns low. “You might need to get a little closer.”
She’s still holding my hand, but her grip loosens as her gaze dips briefly to my lips. We hang suspended in that moment, neither of us moving forward or backward, just mingling in that space of maybe.
“Hey, we need to close up. It’s past three.”
I glare at the employee from the corner of my eye. Why does someone or something always have to interrupt us?
Verity pulls back and starts to collect her things.
“Sorry! We’ll get out of your hair.”
She tugs on my hand, and I let her drag me behind her and out of the store. The streets have started to quiet down, and the temperature has dropped another couple of degrees. She tilts her head slightly as she peers up at me through her long lashes.
“Thank you for another fun night.”
“Anytime.”
“Guess I should probably go find the subway, right?”
“Mm, very funny, sweetheart.” I use our joined hands to tug her toward me, spinning her so her back lands against my chest. I tuck her in close, shielding her from the chilly breeze as I dig out my phone and order her a car.
Every time one of our nights comes to an end, I wish there were some way I could bring her back with me. The feel of her against me is a comfort I don’t want to relinquish. Verity is a craving I can’t ignore. But, too soon, the car arrives and I know I have to let her go once again.
“Is that the car?” She points to the black vehicle slowing at the corner, with its hazards on.
“Yeah.”
“You going to let go of me?”
“Probably not.”
Her twinkling laugh only makes this harder, and I can’t resist dropping a kiss on the crown of her head.
She spins out of my arms, gracing me with one of her sweet smiles.
“Thank you, again. This was the perfect way to end my night.”
“I wouldn’t call it perfect yet.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it didn’t end with a goodnight kiss,” I tease with a smirk.
“Nuh-uh, you know the rule.” She gives me a cheeky grin before she opens the door and hops into the car.
“Verity.”
She stops just shy of shutting the door, wedging it back open.
“Yeah?”
“One more date, then those lips are mine.”