Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Summer
Henry has looked uncomfortable since we walked in, but his face goes all tight at the offer of alcohol. “Just water.”
“Is something wrong?” I ask after the waitress leaves.
He frowns. “No.”
“You look upset.”
His expression softens, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You’re direct, aren’t you?”
Now I’m the one frowning. “Shouldn’t I be?”
A grin spreads across his face. “No, it’s fine. It’s good, in fact. I’m not upset. I’m very aware that there are men in here who see you as an attractive young thing, and I take my role in protecting you from them seriously.”
I roll my eyes. “You sound like my mom.”
“She’s my oldest friend,” he points out. “We’re cut from the same cloth.”
“Does that mean you won’t let me have any fun, either?”
The pained expression is back. “I don’t think I have that kind of power over you, Summer. You’re a grown woman.”
“You just said—”
“I want to protect you from unwanted advances. That’s not the same thing.” He clears his throat. “What fun you have on campus. . . when you get there. . . that’s different.”
The truth is, I have no idea what fun I might want to have on campus. The only person I’ve ever had lecherous thoughts about is the man sitting opposite. Oh, the irony. He’s focused on protecting me from unwanted advances while I’m only thinking about him.
Speaking of unwanted.
I drop my gaze to the table, my face hot now. If he’s cut from the same cloth as my mom, he’ll think it’s horrible that I have the thoughts I do. I’ll never forget the day my mom realized I was touching myself.
Absolutely mortifying. A conversation I never want to repeat, but especially not with Henry.
“And now I’ve embarrassed you.” He sighs. “Summer, I’m—”
“There’s nothing wrong with sex.” I jerk my head up again.
Now he looks slightly panicked. “I didn’t say there was.”
“I may not be ready to have sex with someone else, but there’s nothing wrong with thinking about it.”
His eyes are comically wide. I should laugh. I want to cry instead. “I’ve made it even more awkward now, haven’t I?”
“Fuck. No.” He reaches across the table and grabs my hands, his big paws rough around my wrists. Like a grizzly bear trying to soothe a rabbit. “Stop. It’s fine. Jesus Christ, I don’t know how to respond to that, but yeah, nothing wrong with thinking about sex, okay?”
I jut my chin up at him in a stubborn nod.
“Just don’t cry, okay?”
To my horror, I realize I am about to cry, my eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He grabs a napkin and dabs at the corners of my eyes.
“Teenage girls, huh? Is this why your mama sent you to me?”
“I’m starting to get the impression that she sent me to you because she knows you’re just as puritanical as she is,” I mutter.
He drops the napkin and catches my chin in his hand.
His thumb strokes my cheek and along my jaw, making my breath hitch and my skin sizzle at the warm touch.
His whole face softens. “I’m not puritanical at all, Summer.
I don’t know where you got that idea, but I promise you, I won’t ever judge you for being a human being or having human desire. ”
I swipe my tongue against my lower lip. “My mom. . . she struggled with some of that.”
He nods. “All right. I promise I won’t. Even if I’m caught off guard, give me a minute to adjust, okay?”
I nod, too, and he eases away, leaning back against his side of the booth. He cracks a smile, I laugh nervously, and the moment shifts.
But as our food arrives, I think about his thumb on my face and how good it felt for him to pin his gaze on me and promise he’d never judge me for what I want.
He didn’t say that in so many words, of course. And I don’t know that he’d still promise it if he knew who I wanted. But it’s nice to know I don’t have to hide every part of myself from my roommate.
Just the parts where I want to climb him like a tree.