12. Darwin
I’VE PULLED my car into Stone’s driveway more in the last week than I did in the entire time my friend lived here. He was more than happy to come to me, enjoying the luxury of free beer and playing our current video game obsession on a massive TV (that he convinced me to buy). Even if I had come here, however, I’m positive it wouldn’t have felt like this.
I doubt the buzz of anticipation would have me glancing at my watch every thirty seconds, ready to leave far too early. There’s no way I would drive with my heart lodged in my throat, fiddling with the AC or radio in an attempt to dispel some of this nervous energy.
None of this restlessness is from being out in public or knowing I’m about to encounter any number of viral plague–ridden strangers. It’s all Savvy.
She texted me late last night, reporting more car trouble, and requested a ride to the hardware store before the cleaning campaign begins at Galactic Guild. I’d responded with all the unhinged enthusiasm of a thirteen-year-old boy whose crush asked for help with her history report. It was embarrassing.
Though, not as embarrassing as the following five minutes, which I spent staring at my phone, waiting for her response of “ok”.
I’m losing my shit.
It’s not even eight in the morning, but my little tornado is still sitting on the steps, dressed and ready to go as planned. The moment she stands up, I know I’m in for a long day.
Summer is in full swing. It’s hot out, and I could hardly expect her to cover up, but that doesn’t make the sight of her walking to the car in high- waisted shorts and a crop top any less affecting. A sliver of creamy skin is visible between the garments, just wide enough for me to glimpse a dash of dark ink across her ribcage.
That fucking tattoo.
“Shit.” I shift in my seat, willing my cock to stand down as Savvy opens the door and drops into the passenger seat. Her arms are full of her purse, clipboard, and a tumbler of iced coffee, which sloshes dangerously close to the top as she leans over to find her seatbelt. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” she mutters distractedly, digging through her purse. “Crap, I think I forgot my phone.” Wordlessly, I reach over and pluck it out of the side pocket, and Savvy’s cheeks flush pink as she takes it from me. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” I back out onto the street, hating the strain between us.
The last week together has felt like a dream. Never in my life has being with another person, even Stone, felt easy. The tension that once undercut every moment we spent together is gone, and what’s left behind… Well, there is still tension, but of a very different variety. Every day, I feel myself edging closer to the point of no return, and with every innocent touch, my hope and confidence grows.
Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can have her.
Nine years ago, this woman followed her heart, even if it led her to ruin at my hands. I wasn’t ready for her then, and she would have been miserable with me. She was too young, and I was too broken. It wasn’t right, but that doesn’t make her any less remarkable for trying.
If I want her, and it’s impossible now to pretend I don’t, it’s my turn to be brave.
What she said last night, about me not being able to have it both ways, is true. It’s time to make a choice—the choice—and it’s terrifying.
Things have been good lately, but I know better than to believe my disorder is gone for good. I’ve let my guard down before, and if it weren’t for Savvy coming back into my life when she did, things could have gotten a lot worse. It wouldn’t be fair to put monitoring my mental health on her, though. If we got married…
I stop the thought in its tracks.
Married?
The woman in question hasn’t said a word since we pulled out of her driveway, yet I’m imagining her walking toward me in a white dress with flowers in her hair.
I glance at her when we stop at a light, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. Savvy is staring out the window, but her eyes are glazed, like she’s not seeing any of it. Fuck, I can’t stand this. “Savvy?”
She blinks and looks over at me, offering a tight smile. “Sorry.”
The light turns green, and I drag my gaze back to the road. This woman has me in knots. How the hell do people get anything done when they have so many feelings? I’ve been so consumed by analyzing our every interaction that other worries have completely fallen off the radar.
I’m still trying to come up with something to say to ease the tension between us when we pull into the hardware store parking lot, which is crowded despite the early hour.
“You can stay in the car,” Savvy offers as I park near the back of the lot, already slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulders. “It’s just a few things.”
“No. I’ll come.”
She pauses, looking over the center console at me, biting her lip. “It’s always a madhouse in there, Dar.”
“I’m fine.” Probably. Hopefully. The ugly truth is that I haven’t set foot in a large store like this one in years, and the prospect isn’t inviting. This feels important, though, another test, another self-imposed boundary to be pushed, and I’m determined to get through it.
This newfound determination is likely related to my unwillingness to let Savvy out of my sight while she’s dressed in that fucking outfit.
Neither of us say a word as we walk side by side across the parking lot and through the automatic doors. The place is packed with families and couples buying what they need to complete weekend projects, and just getting down the main aisle is a struggle. Displays of everything from power tools to cleaning supplies are boxing us in, and we’re forced to stop whenever people in front of us do.
It’s suffocating, and the farther we venture into the store, the more my chest tightens and my skin crawls.
“Do we have a list?” I ask, and there’s no disguising the strain in my voice.
Savvy looks back at me, her caramel-colored eyes filled with worry. “You can wait in the car. If you want,” she offers calmly. Apparently, whatever damage I inflicted last night isn’t so grave that she isn’t willing to set it aside to make sure I’m alright.
The battered organ in my chest pangs with affection for my pink-haired tornado.
“No,” I insist, looking past her to watch two kids attempting to scale a pyramid of paper towels. “I’m fine. What do we need?”
Thankfully, she doesn’t question me, instead lowering her eyes to her phone to check the list. “Looks like it’s cleaning stuff. I want to make sure there are enough dusters and such for everyone. Oh! Also, we should grab a new light fixture for the men’s bathroom while we’re here. You know, that one above the sink that someone drew a dick on? I’ve scrubbed it like four times, but you can still see the hairy balls.”
I snort, feeling a bit of the tension in my shoulders ease. “Are you sure? The dick light adds a lot of character.”
Her lips twitch. “I’m not sure it fits the family-friendly vibe we’re going for.”
We turn down an aisle lined with hundreds of illuminated chandeliers and sconces. I trail after Savvy, clutching the handle of the cart like a lifeline. This section is thankfully quieter, and the harsh overhead lighting has been dimmed so shoppers can see the fixtures.
It’s difficult to find anything good in this overcrowded testament to capitalism, but something deep inside my chest stirs to life as Savvy moves ahead of me. Her face is tilted back to examine the lights, which are casting a warm glow over her features.
And, out of nowhere, it hits me.
I haven’t bothered with museums, or traveled, or encountered many exquisite things beyond the limits of my imagination. It’s illogical, yet as I stand stock still watching Savvy Laurence gazing up at a display of bathroom sconces, I know she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.
For my entire life, getting close to someone, physically or emotionally, was repulsive to me. People are messy in more ways than one, and Savvy… Savvy is the messiest. It makes no sense. Feeling this way about anyone else would be better, but I can’t.
And now, I know I don’t want to.
I hadn’t realized it, but a timer started the moment I opened my door to find her there. Every day—every minute—I spend with her makes it harder to convince myself that I can’t do this, that I want to be alone. I’m done trying.
Savvy has been back in my life for less than a month, yet has forced me to challenge every limitation I’ve set for myself.
I might not have much experience with falling in love, but I know now that’s what this is. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her. There’s no walking away from this, not for me. This woman is going to own me until the day I die, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
No more pretending. She deserves better.
Fuck it. It’s time.
“Dar?” Savvy turns, searching for me. I step out from behind the cart and move to her side in a trance, still rocked by the force of my realization. “What do you think?” She points above her head, but I can’t bring myself to look away from her.
What do I think?
I think of reaching out and smoothing the little wrinkle between her eyebrows with my thumb.
I think of pulling her close and brushing aside pink hair so I can bury my face in her neck.
I think of backing her into the wall of boxes before us and kissing her senseless.
“Looks good,” I manage.
Savvy nods, already looking for the correct box. “Shit,” she mumbles, spotting it on the very top shelf and standing on her toes to reach.
I draw forward, my heart hammering against my rib cage. “Let me.”
My hand settles on her waist, touching warm, bare skin as I reach over our heads to pull down the one she wants. My chest brushes her back. We’re so close I can feel the warmth of her body through our clothing. I can hear her breath hitch.
If she were to shift back even an inch, there would be no hiding the effect she has on me.
“This one?” I ask, placing the box in her waiting hands.
Savvy nods, trembling so slightly I could have imagined it, but I didn’t. Neither of us move.
“Is this okay?” My voice is so rough, so strained, that I barely recognize it.
We’re in a public place. There are people on either end of the aisle, but we might as well be a thousand miles away from them. Nothing matters but this, and when Savvy nods, letting out a shaky breath, I could roar with triumph.
This is happening.
My hands tighten on her waist, pulling her more securely into me as I bow forward, brushing my lips over her pulse point. My cock is rock hard and settled perfectly against the curve of her ass. Savvy gasps, so quietly that even if someone were standing right behind us, they couldn’t hear.
I’m doing this. I’m touching Savvy. It’s my hands gripping her waist, my dick pressed against her ass, and my lips on her neck. This isn’t accidental, or instinctive, or a goddamn handshake. This is me, a man, putting my hands on her, a woman I want with everything I am.
My head spins as I breathe in the fresh, sweet scent of her. Unable to resist, I brush my lips down, pressing a kiss to the soft skin where her neck and shoulder meet. The quiet whimper she makes is, without a doubt, the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
A cart passes noisily behind us, and I bet we look like any of the other couples here to the person pushing it: affectionate, happy, in love. Enjoying a quiet moment of intimacy while shopping.
There’s no way for them to tell that an explosion is going off in my chest, or that my entire life is changing course in between the brightly painted shopping cart and a cardboard display of energy-efficient light bulbs.
I swallow, shoving away the last shadow of fear.
“You’re all I’ve been able to think about for weeks,” I tell her. At this angle, I can see the faint outline of her nipples, pebbled beneath that fucking top.
Maybe it’s a good thing that we’re in public and I don’t have unfettered access to her body. If I didn’t… fuck. I don’t want to think about what I’d do if I had her alone.
Savvy trembles, and the box she’s grasping drops a few inches.
“I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Only you. Last night, the thought of you with someone else”—my hold on her waist tightens—“wrecked me, baby. If you don’t feel the same, tell me to leave you alone. Tell me now, because the things I want to do to you aren’t decent, and once we start…” Once we start, I won’t be able to stop.
She’s silent for so long that I worry, starting to feel the sharp edge of horror that she really will tell me no. I’d respect it, of course I would, but I’m not sure I’d ever recover from this—from her.
But then, “What kind of things?”
It’s a miracle my knees don’t give out.
Behind us, another cart rattles by, its driver giving a disapproving tsk at our public display of affection.
I clear my throat. “Later.”
Savvy nods jerkily, and she’s gripping the light box so tightly, the cardboard dents beneath her fingers. “Later,” she confirms.