23. Chapter 23
Dane
Not sure what I did to finally convince Daria I’m not a horrible person, but I figure shaving my mustache is the first step to locking her down.
So I do.
The apartment is quiet when I head out of the bathroom, meaning she’s likely still asleep. I start the coffee and open the fridge to see what we have that I could use to make her breakfast.
A half laugh, half scoff escapes me when it’s clear she hasn’t gone grocery shopping since I left. She must’ve gone out of her way to pick up the ingredients she used for yesterday’s lunch.
My smile grows when I think of yesterday’s events.
After we kissed, Daria emotionally backpedaled and locked herself in her room, claiming she wanted to get started on the shirt’s minor alterations.
I saw the pink in her cheeks, and couldn’t miss the uncharacteristic shyness in her expression, or the uncertain waver in her voice as she shut me out.
She needed time to process what happened between us, and I was more than happy to give it to her.
But today’s a new day.
She can’t hide from me forever, and I’m praying she doesn’t want to. Us living together complicates the situation, sure, but she’s only going to be here for another few weeks before her apartment’s ready.
A pulse of pain pinches in my chest. Did she only give into the building tension between us because we’ve been living together? Will she still want this after she moves out and I’m no longer a part of her daily life?
My analytical side hits the brakes and hollers at me to slow down . I’m not even sure she does want this. Won’t be until I hear the words come from her mouth.
A door opens down the hall, and I realize I’ve been staring into the nearly empty fridge for who knows how long, lost in my mental wanderings.
I shut the door and grab my phone, quickly placing an order for breakfast from the coffee shop down the street.
It says it should be here in about twenty minutes.
Just enough time to feel Daria out about what happened between us last night.
I hope.
Busying myself around the kitchen so I don’t look like I’m waiting for her while I’m most definitely waiting for her, I unload the dishwasher and put the dishes away. Then I wipe down the shelves in the fridge.
Is she taking longer than usual to get ready or is it just me being hyperaware?
The doorbell rings, and I answer it. Food in hand, I walk to the table and set out our breakfast, hoping I didn’t overstep with this. She still hasn’t come out of the bathroom for whatever reason, and I’m afraid I’ve done too much too fast.
“Who was at the door?”
My body sags with relief at the sound of Daria’s groggy morning voice. I turn and smile. “It was the food delivery guy.” I wave a hand over the table. “I ordered us breakfast.”
It’s impossible not to notice that she took extra time on her hair and makeup this morning. She’s not even in her pajamas like she usually is when she strolls into the kitchen on the weekends. If I’m honest, I kind of miss her looking like she just rolled out of bed.
One side of her mouth lifts higher than the other as she tucks a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “I’m paying for my half.” At that, she meets my eyes. “But thank you.”
There’s no way in the world I’d make her pay for “her half,” but I’m not going to argue with her right now. Instead, I walk to the coffee pot. “Want a cup of coffee?” Nervousness makes me jittery, and I clumsily fumble while pulling a coffee mug from the cupboard.
“Sure. But you don’t need to get it for me.” Her voice drifts closer, and it’s as if my entire body hums to life. Waiting. Anticipating.
Mentally telling myself to cool it, I pour her a cup and add a bit of the coconut sugar she likes so much to it. “It’s not a problem,” I say, turning to hand her the coffee.
She’s only an arm’s length away from me, close enough to see the hint of curiosity in her dark eyes as she wraps her fingers around the mug, hers brushing mine as she does.
“Did you sleep well?” she asks just before taking a sip of her drink, watching me over the rim of her mug.
“Like the dead.” I chuckle and lean back against the counter. “I always do after coming home from a long stretch.”
She nods and looks away. Was that disappointment I detected in her expression?
I push away from the counter. “Of course, it helped that I fell asleep thinking about a certain beautiful roommate of mine.”
Her lips purse as she meets my gaze. “Did you now?”
I nod and step closer. “Yep.”
“I’m surprised she doesn’t give you nightmares that keep you up all night.” The side of Daria’s mouth inches higher. “I’ve heard she’s pretty mean when she wants to be.” Despite the way she smiles, there’s something sad lingering in her eyes. Regret? Remorse?
If this is her roundabout way of apologizing for pushing me away, I’ll gladly accept it. I know she’s been hurt in the past, know she's lived through her share of trauma, and I have no desire to add to that. If only she realized how gone for her I already am.
“She can be mean, sure,” I say, letting my gaze cling to every feature of her beautiful face, “but…she’s also very sweet. When she wants to be.”
Daria clutches her mug with both hands and stares up at me, one of her dark eyebrows lifts slightly. “Is that so?”
“Well,” I amend, twirling a long lock of her hair, then lightly skimming my fingertips along the side of her neck. Little goosebumps pebble across her skin in my wake. “I think so. I may have to get another taste of her just to be sure.”
Daria’s breath catches, but it’s impossible to miss the amusement on her face. “Then what are you waiting for, roomie? I’ve been standing here for at least five minutes.”
Smiling, I lean down and press my lips against hers.
Her breathing stutters as I grip the back of her neck and explore her pouty lips, then make my way toward the edge of her jaw, the long column of her throat.
She smells like summer and tastes like fresh fruit from the farmer’s market.
And I tell her so, murmuring the words against her soft skin.
“Dane,” she breathes. “You’re going to make me spill my coffee.”
I release a laugh and back away. “Can’t have that.” With one last kiss to the tip of her nose, I turn and pour myself a cup. I hear more than see her shuffle over to the table, where I join her seconds later.
While she eyes the setup and picks what she wants, my heart begs me to broach the topic I’ve mulled over since I woke up. But I’m afraid of how she’ll respond.
Sure, she likes making out with me, but does that mean she’s interested in a relationship? Is it too soon to have the DTR talk over breakfast?
“You look so much better without it.” Her voice jerks me from my mental debate.
“Huh?”
“Your mustache.” Her lips twitch on a smile. “I like you better without it.”
My grin breaks free. “I aim to please, Miss Dantez.”
She shakes her head and laughs, spreading a pat of butter over the top of her blueberry muffin. “I fixed your shirt last night. And got a big head start on the pants.”
I grab an egg quiche for myself and peel off the wrapper. “I bet you did. You were in there all night long.”
Her knife hits the plate with a clang, and she mutters a curse. “Sorry. I, um, just wanted to get started on what I could so I don’t get behind. It would suck if I had to rush to get everything altered the week before the fashion show.”
Her reasoning makes sense, but she won’t meet my eyes. Is she trying to avoid talking about what happened between us?
“So,” I start, unable to leave it alone now that I brought attention to it. “You hiding in your room all night didn’t have anything to do with us kissing?”
Pink sweeps into her cheeks. “Not really, no.”
“Not really ?”
“Dane.” She sighs, finally allowing her gaze to rest on mine. “I think it’s obvious that I like you. That we like each other. But…”
Here it comes. Her rejection.
I brace myself for the worst, mentally running through responses that won’t make me look desperate or like I’ve wanted us to cross this line for months.
She runs a hand through her hair. “The last long-term relationship I was in sucked. I mean, it didn’t at first, but it wasn’t long before he started skipping dates with me to hang out with his friends .
” She puts those last words in air quotes and rolls her eyes.
“Except he wasn’t with friends; he was cheating on me. ”
Anger swells inside my heart, forcing me to say, “He was an idiot.”
She smiles softly. “Yeah, I know. That’s what Jamie says too.”
“And I’m not him.”
She releases a long breath. “I know that, Dane. But you’re looking for something serious. You’re wanting to settle down. For life. And I just don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
I offer her a thoughtful nod. “I understand that. But it’s not like I’m getting down on one knee tomorrow.”
Again, her cheeks turn a dark shade of pink. “Of course you’re not. I'm just afraid—” She cuts herself off and starts over. “I’m worried that you’ll want more than I’m willing to give.” With a sad frown, she stares at me.
I probably will want more from her than she’s willing to give, but that’s how it’s been almost our entire relationship. While she’s been busy hating my guts, I’ve been waiting, hoping she’d be able to see me in a different light.
What’s a few more months? Another year, even, of waiting for her to get on the same page as me?
Daria is worth waiting for. The more I learn about her, the more I want to learn.
She has layers I have to work to peel back, sure, but the reward for doing so far outweighs the risk of getting hurt in the end.
Not to mention, she’s the only woman I’ve ever wanted like this, the only one who I could see putting up with my OCD tendencies for the rest of my life and not ridiculing me for them.