Chapter 11
Thursday afternoon, Xavier groaned as he did his best to get off the phone with his mother. Damn it. Would it have killed Auggie to stick to the twin-code and remain mute on the subject of Justine?
“Ma, I’m serious. She’s a lovely woman, but we’re just friends. Both of us are getting off bad breakups, and it wouldn’t be healthy to jump into a new relationship for either of us.”
“But honey, Auggie said—”
“Auggie’s a pain. She’s just stirring up trouble because...” She’s treating your dating life like a competition. Whose candidate wins Mom’s heart? He couldn’t say that. “Because she’s Auggie.”
“If you say so, Xavier. I’m not nagging.”
“You’re totally nagging.”
“It’s only because I love you.” She paused. “And I never thought Christine was a good fit for you, honey.”
“I know, which is also part of the reason we broke up. I didn’t feel she was a good fit for me either. Again, Justine is a friend. It’s nice to not have any weirdness with her.”
“Fine.” Yet Cynthia didn’t sound as if she believed him.
He had no idea why. They chatted for a few more minutes before his mother had to go to play pickleball with a few friends.
“I’ll talk to you later this week. Love you.”
“Love you too, Ma,” he said and disconnected.
He wondered when Justine would talk to her mother, and what she’d say. He had enough pressure from his mom and Auggie, and he liked being with them. It couldn’t be easy dealing with problematic family all the time.
He left the apartment and hit the gym, coming back home a few hours later. He’d managed to avoid Auggie after yesterday’s coffee and late dinner. Poor Justine. She must have been starving. She really should confront her boss and say—
Nope. Not my business. Not going there.
Though it was a chore to put away good advice, he knew it best to stick to his own business and no one else’s unless they asked for it. Justine would handle her family and boss the way she saw fit.
After fixing himself a quick meal, he grabbed his laundry and hauled it downstairs. Fortunately, of the two washers, only one was running, so he had plenty of room in which to work. He put in a load and left, returning an hour later to find both machines off and nothing in the dryers.
He put his load in the dryer and turned to leave when Justine entered wearing a battered sweatshirt and shorts that showed off her amazing legs.
Doing his best to keep his gaze on her face, he saw a lack of makeup and thought she looked even prettier without it. Not that he’d say anything about it, because who cared what he thought about her appearance?
“Oh, hey, Xavier.”
“Hi. How was work?”
She shrugged. “It was work. But at least Frank the procrastinator had nothing for me today. And the presentation he had to give went well, so I’m told.” She scooped her clothing from the washer and dumped it all, in an armload, into the dryer.
Except she dropped an article of clothing on her way.
He scooped it up, realized he held a lacy bra, and paused.
So of course she turned around to see him holding her underthings.
“You dropped this.”
“Oh, thanks.” She hurried to yank it out of his hand and tossed it into the dryer. “I’m usually losing socks, not bras.”
“Yeah, me too.” He paused. “Um, because I don’t wear them.”
“Good to know.” She laughed at him. “Your face is pretty red right now.”
“As red as yours?” he asked with a smirk.
She crossed her arms over her chest, and he had to work hard to keep his gaze on her face and not dip any lower, remembering how she’d felt against him, how she’d tantalized in her pajama top, how she looked right now, casual yet sexy as hell.
Everything about Justine attracted him, damn it. Talk about some advice he could use right about now: Dear Aunt Truth, how do I keep my relationship casual with the new girl I’m liking more than I should?
He realized she looked to be waiting for something. But her gaze kept dipping to his mouth, and she nibbled her lower lip.
You’re killing me, woman.
She took a step closer, and he smelled something fruity. Delicious. He wanted a taste. Badly.
“So, um, I enjoyed dinner last night,” she finally said, her voice husky.
“Me too.” He looked down at her, some primal part of him enjoying that he was larger and stronger than Justine. “Thanks for tolerating Auggie.”
Her lips quirked, and his heart raced, seeing that humor, that intelligence in her velvety brown eyes and sinking into what felt like a massive crush. So juvenile, yet there it was.
“Your sister was funny. And tough. She’s pretty protective of you.”
“It’s a twin thing.”
Her smile turned sweet. “Truth be told, I’m envious. I wish I had a relationship that close with my own sisters. But I do have Katie, and she’s kind of like my own twin.”
“Katie?” It took a moment, but he remembered the pretty blond who’d been with her when they’d first met. “Oh, the one who called me a dickhead?”
Justine coughed. “I think it was more along the lines of you acting like a dick.”
“Semantics.” He smirked. “Do you think I’m a dick?”
He should stop, because every time he heard the word “dick,” his body seemed to respond, the swelling between his legs telling but fortunately hidden behind his jeans.
“Well, I’d say you were nice but left a not-so-great first impression.” She winked and stared into his eyes with heat.
He’d swear she was flirting with him. So close, glancing up at him as if waiting for him to kiss her.
All the reasons why he should keep his distance faded from his mind, and he shifted closer and lifted a hand to her cheek.
Her eyes widened. “Wh-what?”
“An eyelash.” He pulled his finger back to show her. “Now you’re supposed to make a wish and blow it away.”
She licked her lips, and he fought a groan. She blew across his finger, and the eyelash flew away.
“I guess I shouldn’t ask what you wished for or it won’t come true.” Damn, he sounded gritty. But he was so keyed up he was proud of stringing words together to form a sentence.
Silence built between them, and he knew it had to be more than just him feeling it. Yet they waited to see who would make the first move.
Justine took a step closer.
Xavier’s heart threatened to pound out of his chest.
“Oh, are the washers empty? I see the dryers going.”
They sprang apart like cats doused with water. Xavier turned to see Sam holding a large bag full of laundry, the kid’s attention fixed on the washing machines.
Justine cleared her throat. “No, Xavier and I just put our stuff into the dryers. You have the washers all to yourself.” She smiled brightly at Sam, then at Xavier. “See you guys later.” She danced out of the room in a hurry, and Xavier was left with a thirteen-year-old going on forty.
The newly crowned teenager glanced at the empty doorway. “Sorry, dude, but she’s too young for you.”
Amused despite his tension, Xavier raised a brow. How old did Sam think he was? “Oh?”
“Besides, I’m going to ask her out again. She likes younger men.”
“Is that right?” That wacky previous moment of stress broken, Xavier felt both disappointed and relieved to be back to normal.
“Well, for the record, I think your love interest is more into older men, ones who can at least drive.” He looked around.
“Better keep your brother away from her. He’s got his permit, doesn’t he? ”
“I know. I’ve been keeping watch, don’t worry.” Sam sounded so serious and determined Xavier had to laugh.
“Need any help with your laundry?”
“Um, sure. That would be good.”
Xavier helped the boy, listened to an earful about his uncle not allowing him to do anything fun, like jumping off bridges or hanging out after dark with his friends in the city, then left for his apartment.
He wondered if he should confront Justine about their odd bouts of attraction. But what if he’d been overthinking the situation? Could he have misread her intentions? What if she hadn’t been leaning in for a kiss? He’d been the one to initiate touching her, after all.
He went back to his drafting table to color some new panels, alarmed at how he might have projected his feelings into the situation.
The more he thought about it, the more he got wrapped into his head and tried to help himself out through a deeper analysis of his feelings, of what had truly happened.
By the time he readied for bed that night, he realized he must have misread Justine and that he needed to find someone else to help him satisfy his needs.
Because at the rate he was headed, he was on the course to ruin things with his new friend and neighbor.
Not a great situation at all. Because one—he liked living here without any drama.
And two—he really, really liked Justine.
The thought of spending his days without the possibility of seeing her smile or hearing her confide in him hurt. Way more than it should.
So he packed away any foolish longings and weighed his feelings versus his needs.
As always, he came out the stronger for it and relegated any discomfort with distress to a healthy way of idealizing balance.
He fell asleep with ease.
And this time he didn’t dream. Or at least, he didn’t choose to remember.