76. Bailey
seventy-six
Bailey
Let me buy you a book? I feel like I’ve stumbled into some parallel universe and I really don’t know how to act.
I take his hand, and warmth floods my veins. It’s so familiar, so strong and demanding but so fucking soothing I don’t want to let go.
We stand there for a beat, my hand in his, and then a fucking giggle bursts from me. I bring my hands to my mouth to try and stifle the laugh.
“You good?” He asks playfully.
“Yes,” I manage to sputter. Jesus, it’s like I’m fucking nineteen again.
An hour later, we walk out of the store, Lolly carrying five books I swore I couldn’t live without. I can’t help but smile when he catches me looking at him. Everything between us feels so fucking intimate even though there’s a good chance he’s not even remotely interested in me anymore.
I’ve overanalyzed every word, every touch, every brush of his hand or boxers-melting smile and still have no idea what’s going on.
When we’re both settled in, I put my arm back on the console next to his wondering if he feels it too.
“How many books do you think you would have left with if I hadn’t been there to stop you?” He says with a quick glance my way.
“Oh, at least double that amount. Easily. I have no self control in a bookstore. Asking anything more of me is criminal, honestly,” I say as I gently nudge his arm with mine.
He laughs, popping a pink sucker into his mouth, “I can only imagine.”
He’s putting the car in park in front of my apartment. It feels like it’s only been seconds since we left the store. Heavy disappointment washes over me so I make an effort to act unbothered. Like I’m perfectly fine with him leaving me here. Alone. All by myself.
“Come on, let me walk you inside,” he says as he grabs my book bags and follows me up the walkway.
My heart is pumping wildly as I stop at the door, fumbling with my keys. A nervous energy making me unable to use my brain or fingers.
How does he do this to me?
Every fucking time, too.
I unlock the door and turn to face him, uncertain what to do. No idea what he wants or where we stand.
“Here, let me take those,” I say as I reach for the bags, hoping he doesn’t notice my hands trembling.
“I’m just going to, um, I’m going to set these inside real quick,” I say awkwardly before darting inside and dropping them on the counter.
Breathe, Bailey.
I look up to see him leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a knowing smirk lighting up that beautiful face. He fucking knows what he’s doing to me and he’s enjoying it.
Fucking sadist.
My feet finally understand the assignment and carry me back to the threshold. I get a good solid grip on the doorframe before I risk looking at him again.
He smiles, “Thanks for tonight.”
“Thank you for taking me?” I say with an awkward, questioning tone.
Good god.
“You’re welcome,” he grins.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. I don’t know where to look, and I’m pretty sure my dick is pointing right at him.
“Text me tomorrow?” He says as he takes a small step toward me.
“Kay.” Bailey, what the fuck. Grown men don’t say, ‘kay’.
He’s close enough now I can smell him, feel that magnetic pull I’m just barely winning a small battle with.
He leans in and plants a chaste kiss on my cheek, “Goodnight, green eyes.”
My lungs stop working and I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my head, unable to stop the grin that splits my face.
“Night,” I manage to say just as he turns and walks away.
“Holy shit,” I laugh as I close the door behind me, leaning against it as I try to get my feet back underneath me.
He kissed me. I mean, he kissed my cheek but still—he fucking kissed me. My fingers ghost over the spot where he left a small piece of hope on my skin.
I stand there, propped against the door until my phone dings, bringing me out of whatever Lolly-induced trance I was under.
Liam: How was your date?
Me: It wasn’t a date
Liam: How was your not date?
Me: It was nice
Liam: Nice? Bays, come on, you gotta give me more than, “nice.”
Me: Fine. It was really fucking nice.
My phone rings and I roll my eyes before answering. “You can’t be serious,” I say with a groan.
“Oh, I’m serious as shit, Simon Bailey.”
I laugh, knowing it’s never good when he calls me by my name.
“Spill. I’ve been dying to hear from you and you’ve kept me waiting for hours,” he whines dramatically.
“I don’t really know. I’m honestly a little confused, if that makes sense?”
“Confused about what? Your feelings for him?”
“No,” I admit. “No confusion there.”
“So what is it then?”
“I don’t know if he feels the same way. Hell, Liam, why would he even consider being with me after everything I put him through?” I run my hand through my hair as I sprawl across the couch.
“Look, Bays,” Liam says. “I know where you’re coming from, and your concerns are valid, but have you considered that maybe he, too, sees you for who you are?”
I chew on my bottom lip as I let his words settle. Hoping that, by some fucking miracle, he’s right.
“We all have our regrets, Bays. God knows I do. None of us are perfect. But when we have people in our lives that see who we are and not the sum of what we’ve done, we need to fucking hold onto them because that shit is rare.”
I try to blink back tears, but they free fall without a care—streaming down my cheeks as I hold the phone with trembling hands.
“I know,” I admit. He’s right.
“Bays?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“You have to forgive yourself. For all of it. Because I’m pretty sure that he’s already forgiven you. And if you’ve still got a deathgrip on your past, you’ll miss out on the future.”
A sob shakes me, pulverizing the last keystone I’d managed to place, toppling the walls around me until they’re dust.
“Thanks, Liam,” I cry.
“Anytime, Sugartbritches.”
I laugh, sending tears flying away from my face.
“Text me tomorrow, Bays.”
“I will.”