20. Chapter Nineteen Gloria #2
"Yeah, after you read it!" I yell, spinning around and planting my hands on my hips. "After you read my private, personal documents!"
"Gloria, I'm sorry…" He takes a deep breath, but doesn't come any closer. "It was wrong of me to invade your privacy like that, and I'm sorry. But I'll never be sorry for trying to pursue you."
"I feel like you tricked me. Like you read my list and tried to..." I stare down at my hands, trying to figure out why I feel so upset. "Tried to..."
"Tried to what? Get you to fall in love with me?
" London's voice is calmer, less desperate now.
The kind of tone I've heard him use when taking down opponents in court.
Only now, he's turned it on me. "I didn't force you to fall for me.
If anything, I failed when it mattered the most. Yes, I read your list, but it was only a list of things you wanted in a guy.
It wasn't some magical spell I waved over you—"
"You lied to me. Was this all some practical joke? Making fun of my list by doing all the things on it to prove to me how ridiculous I am? How pathetic?" As I run through the list of possibilities, I realize that I'm angry—no, furious—with him. Because those options terrify me.
Because he's London, and I'm Gloria, and we've always been that.
Because if he found out about my list, he might also realize that a lot of the criteria on it are things that he fits, aside from the silly stuff that Raina wrote down.
Because I can't imagine not seeing him every day, not having him in my life, not working or carpooling or painting pottery with him .
Because if he found my list, he might actually check all my boxes—and that I'd have to face the reality of how I've felt about him for a long time. And if we actually got together, I just know he'd break my heart.
Because he still doesn’t want a family.
"Gloria, that's the last thing I would ever do."
"Then why would you read my list? Why not just tell me I left it on your desk? Why go to the effort of learning how to ride horses and ballroom dance? Why?"
"Because you're worth it!" he shouts. "You're worth all of that, all the effort, and even more.
You're worth so much more than you give yourself credit for, and I couldn't just sit back and watch you date other men.
Not when I knew, even if I'd never be worthy of you, I could at least try to be.
I love you, Gloria. I've always loved you. "
"You—what?" My jaw drops, and would hit the floor and keep tunnelling through to the centre of the earth if it wasn't attached to my face. "You love me?"
"I understand if you don't feel the same way," he says, using the same measured tone as before. His chest falls and rises quicker, though, the only sign that I affect him. That this conversation matters to him. “I know I’m not your first pick. Or even your last.”
"I... I don't know how to feel." I start backing up toward the elevator, gripping my purse like it's a lifeline.
"I can give you space if you only want to be friends," he says quickly. “It might take me a while to accept, but I’ll understand.”
"And after everything you've just said and did, you still think we could be friends ?" Tears fill my eyes as my feet root to the ground, too stung by his words to move .
“Yes, Gloria. I want to be friends with you.” London steps closer to me, and his breath warms my face. Saltwater spills down my cheeks, and he gently brushes my tears away before dropping his hands to his sides again.
Goosebumps rise on my bare arms, as his scent of cedar and eucalyptus wraps around me.
A soothing, calming aroma. So why does it light every nerve in my body on fire, and make every fibre of my being beg to get closer to him?
Warning bells sound in my head, blaring at me to get away.
That he’s going to hurt me. But I can’t.
I gaze up at him, my eyes searching his for any sign of insincerity, any hint that he doesn't mean what he's said. Any sign that he doesn't just want to be friends.
“If your definition of friends includes teasing you at work because I cherish the sound of your laugh…" London gently reaches out and rests his hand on my waist, and I don't resist. If anything, I relax into his touch. "Or grabbing your hand under the table when you don’t think anyone’s looking…"
London tucks a loose strand of my hair behind one ear. "Or kissing you breathless until you can’t think about anything but me… then yes. I want to be friends.”
It's now or never. Finding a new boldness in me that says, to hell with the rules and lists and plans , I step even closer, my chest brushing his.
“What if my definition of friends is one where we do this ?” I stretch up on my tiptoes, resting my hands on his broad shoulders, and feathering a kiss on his cheek.
His hand slides from my waist up my back, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and cups the back of my head. "Then I'd love to be your best friend, Ria."
London presses his lips to mine, and I melt and burn and spark to life all at once .
I didn't know a first kiss would feel like this.
Like every secret desire fulfilled, like all my unspoken prayers answered.
Like London knew exactly what I'd want in a first kiss and hand-delivered it in the most exquisitely wrapped gift box.
His strong arms hold me against the chest that I was definitely ogling when we were at the gym.
How is it possible that the man I thought would never be interested in me is kissing me like he wants to fuse our lips together and never be separated?
Uncertain of what to do, I card my fingers through his hair, which is softer than I had imagined. A groan slips out of his mouth when I tug him down towards me. I savour the sound—knowing I can have some kind of effect on the usually controlled London Young.
"Gloria," he whispers after he draws back slightly. We're so close that our noses brush. "Did—did you want this?"
I laugh. "You're asking me now ?"
"I know we have a lot to figure out—and I didn't exactly make our first kiss the most romantic location it could be—"
" My first kiss," I correct him.
His eyes widen comically, and the colour leaches from his face. "That was your first kiss?"