Chapter 20 #2
“Would you like dessert?” the server asks, breaking through our short bout of silence.
“Just the check,” Halsey says, which makes me worried from his curt tone.
“Not a problem. Be right back.”
The server takes off, and I’m about to apologize again for making things so awkward that he wants to cut the date short, but then he says, “I wanted to walk around the public market and grab some dessert from a vendor. Does that work for you?”
“Oh yeah, that would be great.”
“You sure?” he asks. “Because if you like something on the menu here, we can get it.”
God, he’s so sweet.
I shake my head. “No, grabbing something from a vendor sounds like fun.”
“These are so pretty,” I say as I check out the thin gold bracelets that caught my eye at one of the jewelers. “Did you make these?” I ask the vendor.
“I did,” the woman says. “It’s one of my favorite sets.”
“Can she see them?” Halsey asks.
“Of course,” the woman says as she pulls them out of the case.
Halsey reaches for the bracelets and unclasps them one by one, only to nod for me to lift my wrist.
I give him a look, but he doesn’t let up, so I lift my wrist and he puts them on.
They’re so delicate and beautiful.
“Do you like them?” Halsey asks.
I look up at him. “I know that look, and you’re not getting them for me.”
He retrieves his wallet and fishes out his card. “Too late.” He hands the card over to the vendor, and she turns away, not wanting to be part of this argument. Smart lady, take the money and run.
“Halsey, they’re too much.”
“They’re not,” he says as he lifts my chin and presses a kiss to my lips.
“Here you go,” the vendor says as she hands back Halsey’s card and a receipt to sign. He scribbles his signature, then the vendor hands him a bag with the jewelry boxes in them, but he shakes his head.
“She’s wearing them out of here. Thank you, though.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I answer. “I don’t plan on taking them off. Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“They’re perfect for you,” the vendor says.
Halsey takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “She’s right, they’re perfect on you.”
I tug him to the side so we’re out of the flowing traffic and place my hands on his chest. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to get them for you.”
I’m not going to put up a fight because it would seem ungrateful, so instead, I soak in this sweet moment.
“Thank you for my bracelets, Halsey. I really do love them.”
“Of course,” he says as he cups my cheek. I watch as a large smile breaks across his lips as he stares down at me.
“What?” I ask.
He lightly shakes his head. “Still in disbelief that I get to hold you like this. I convinced myself this would never happen, that I could only admire you from afar.”
“Well, it’s real, Halsey.” I smooth my fingers over his chest. “This is so real.”
“Feels like a dream. Afraid I might wake up and it will all be over.”
I bring my hand to his side, and with my index finger and thumb, I pinch his side.
“Hey!” he shouts, moving away from me. “What the hell was that for?”
I chuckle. “See? Not a dream.” I hold up my pinching fingers. “Pinchy fingers and all.”
“You could have just stuck your tongue in my mouth. You didn’t have to pinch me.”
“No, this really seals the deal on what we have going on.” I kiss his jaw. “But if you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth, I’d be more than happy to later.”
He wraps his arms around my shoulders and brings me in close to his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of my head before saying, “If you stick your tongue in my mouth, I won’t be able to not stick my dick in your . . . main hole.”
I snort against his shirt and look up at him. “Please . . . for the love of God, confirm that was Posey and not you.”
“That was one hundred percent Posey,” he says. “A mistake I’ll never make again.”
“That man needs help.”
Halsey nods his head. “More than you know.” He takes my hand, and together, we continue through the market. “Word on the street is he’s crushing on someone.”
“Really?” I ask, looking up at him. “Tell me more.”
“Will you be okay that there are no blueberries in this dessert?” I ask Halsey as he hands me a wooden fork—one for him, one for me.
“I think I’ll survive. This looks good, though. I’m excited to try it.”
“I never would have pegged you for a lemon-loving guy. Then again, I never would have thought you liked blueberry-flavored food so much, either.”
“And what would you expect me to like?”
I lean back, giving him a slow once-over, and then tap my fork to my lips. “Hmm . . . if I had to choose, I’d say you like the taste of paper, oats, and marmalade.”
“What?” he asks on a snort. “What kind of answer is that? Paper? Marmalade? Am I an eighty-year-old with xylophagia?”
“What’s that?” I ask as he pops open the lemon coconut square we purchased to share.
“A person who consumes paper.”
“How the hell do you know that word off the top of your head?”
He smirks. “It’s called reading, baby. Maybe give it a try.”
“Oh, with that sort of attitude, you won’t be invited into my main hole for a while.”
“Good.” He tips my chin up. “Since we’re taking it slow and all.”
“Ohhh, nice try.” I shake my head. “Fine, when we get back to the apartment, I’ll make it my job to force you into coming somehow tonight.”
“Oh no, please don’t,” he says, his voice full of sarcasm. “I’d hate every second of that.”
I dip my fork into the corner of the lemon bar and lift it to my lips. “You know, you’re really snarky for the guy who likes to play the quiet, shy card.”
“I’m not playing any card,” he says while he takes a bite of the lemon square as well. It’s so freaking good. We should have purchased two. “Just been living in a fog until you came around.”
I tilt my head to the side. “You can’t say those things to me.”
“Why not?” he asks.
“Because . . .” I look up at him through my lashes. “Makes me fall harder.”
“Good,” he says. “Then I’m doing my job.”
I look at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth. The bite marks from the other night are fading, but still obvious.
My cheeks are still flushed from the way Halsey held me close while we floated back on the aquabus, telling me how lucky he was and how beautiful I am.
My heart is freaking full, and I’m trying not to be overwhelmed, but how could I not be?
In the matter of weeks . . . WEEKS . . .
I’ve found an unexpected man in my life that I just thought was an acquaintance.
I’ve watched him morph and change, and I’m growing very attached to this man.
I’ve developed such strong feelings for him.
It’s insane.
So crazy to even try to comprehend.
I thought I was in love, yet here I am with Halsey, feeling something entirely different, something deeper, something that beats through me all the way to the marrow of my bones.
How is that possible? Is Penny right? Had things between Perry and me fizzled to the point that we weren’t really dating by the time we broke up?
It does have merit. Yes, we had sex, but it seemed more like habit rather than lovemaking near the end.
Definitely wasn’t fucking. How did I not see that?
I spit into the sink and rinse my mouth with some water before I turn off the light to my bathroom and head into my bedroom. I glance at myself in the full-length mirror and adjust the lingerie set I decided to wear to bed.
It’s a variation of the one I wore the other night where it’s held together by a tie at my breasts. But this one is forest-green, see-through lace. It really does nothing other than entice the person you’re trying to entice.
And even if he only holds me tonight, at least I’ll feel beautiful while he does it.
On a deep breath, I head over to his bedroom, thinking about how weird it is that we’re roommates who are dating and sleep in the same bed but still technically have different bedrooms. Probably best to give us both space.
Not to mention, I don’t think I’m in a position where I’m ready for him to watch me floss just yet.
The only thing more intimate than flossing in front of your partner is going number two.
Number one, no big deal, but number two, that edges out flossing by a hair.
The light on his bedside table is on, casting the room in a warm glow. He isn’t on the bed yet, but he walks out of his bathroom as I approach, only to look to the side and catch me en route.
That’s when he pauses, and his eyes unapologetically roam my body, fixating on my chest. He drags his hand over his mouth and says, “Blakely. . .”
“Yes?” I smile.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting into bed, why?” I glance at the bed. “Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?”
“You know damn well I don’t,” he growls.
“Okay, then what’s the problem?”
He motions to my outfit. “That’s the problem.”
“Oh, right, sorry.” I tug on the string that holds the top together, and when it pops open, showing off my bare breasts, I say, “You want me naked, don’t you?”
“Jesus Christ,” he huffs.
And I don’t wait for him, I walk over to my side of the bed, drop my top to the floor but keep the bottoms up, and slip under the covers, casually picking up the lotion I keep on my nightstand and massaging a drop into my hands.
He remains standing by the bathroom.
Finally, I glance at him and ask, “Are you going to join me?”
He mutters something under his breath that I can’t quite make out, then walks over to the bed, flipping off the switch to the light and blanketing us into the dark.
Then he slips under the covers, but instead of grabbing me by the waist and pulling me into him like he always does, he remains on his side of the bed, stiff as a board, looking up toward the ceiling.
Aw, it’s so cute how he’s trying to avoid me. Little does he know.
I roll to my side, scoot in close, and press my body against him as I smooth my hand over his stomach.
He stiffens even more.