Chapter 8 #2
“We can pause it when the food comes.” I turned around and noticed they were already settled in on the sofa with a throw over them. Comfortable in my house, and I felt glad that at least I could provide Ari a space where he could be himself while he figured things out.
I couldn’t use my attraction for Easton as a distraction anymore.
No matter how much I ached to run upstairs and apologize for leaving him hanging, for hurting him.
It was better to do this now than later, before we were both too emotionally invested.
It felt like a betrayal to even think like this, but my own wants could not take precedence this time.
Easton
I didn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to.
I would recognize those shoulders anywhere.
Patrice was embracing another man outside of the building at 10:00 a.m. on a Sunday.
From my living room window I had a front-row seat of the unfolding scene.
He stood there, his face serious, both hands in his pockets as he watched the man drive off and then went back inside.
I felt like the skin on my face was burning, jealousy and humiliation coursing through me.
I was a fucking fool.
Patrice wasn’t busy working like I told myself when I got his text last night as I frantically ran around preparing the elaborate dessert I’d ended up shoving into the fridge untouched.
He was with someone else.
All that shit he said on the phone the other night was just that…shit he’d said. I had to finally get it through my stupid fucking head that Patrice and I weren’t doing the same thing. We were nowhere near the same page. I need to leave this alone.
And yet, before I knew what I was doing, I was running down the two flights of stairs to his place and knocking on his door. I didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk. Gearing up for a big case in less than two weeks meant I couldn’t afford killing my productivity with hangovers.
So within seconds, I was in front of Patrice’s apartment door, knocking on it like I had a right to it, with all of one mimosa in my system. I had no idea what I thought I was doing, but I felt so hurt. I wasn’t letting him off with a text, like I was nothing.
No, I needed to hear from him why he’d strung me along like that.
When he finally opened the door, I saw a blend of surprise and weariness on his face.
Not exactly what I was hoping for, but not exactly unexpected either.
Besides, I didn’t come expecting a warm welcome, I’d come to give Dr. Denis a piece of my mind.
Before he said anything, he brought up his arm so he could look at the watch on his wrist. When he saw the time, he raised an eyebrow in question. Like that was supposed to embarrass me.
“How can I help you, Easton?”
That aloofness cut deep, and for a moment, I hesitated.
I’d wanted to believe there was something between us, but when I saw him shut down like this, I faltered.
His cool eyes made me wonder if I’d imagined everything, and it made me feel so pathetic.
I breathed through the heat I knew would probably creep up on my face if I didn’t calm down.
“Just wanted to say I hoped you had a nice date.” I was practically spitting out the words, but the look of confusion on his face mollified me a bit. Once I was done, I didn’t even give him a chance to respond and before I humiliated myself more, I started turning away.
But like it always had the power to do, Patrice’s deep voice brought me to a dead stop.
“That wasn’t a date, Easton. That was Ari.
He and Yin stayed over last night.” He sighed wearily and I stood there, with my back to him waiting to hear more.
“Ari got stopped by the police yesterday afternoon driving back from Yin’s place. ”
I turned around then. Worry for Ari stamping out my pity party. “Is he okay? Did they do anything to him?” My mouth felt wooden when I talked, dreading all the possible terrible answers to that question.
Patrice’s face was thunderous, but he shook his head before he spoke. “They were rude and stopped him for going eight miles over the speed limit, but they let him go.” The “fucking ridiculous” in his tone did not go unnoticed, and I couldn’t disagree.
“He was a little freaked out and I invited him and Yin over to hang out and watch a movie. His home situation is not the best right now, and I wanted him to have a place to calm down and talk about it before going back there.”
His perfectly reasonable answer made me feel even worse, instead of relieved. He was helping out a friend and I made the whole thing about me. I nodded and was about to apologize for my incredibly inappropriate behavior when his voice pulled me out of my brooding.
“No. Don’t do that,” he said as he gently tugged on my arm and pulled me inside.
“Do what?” I sounded surly and unhappy but still let him guide me into his place. He was probably trying to not give our neighbors a front-row seat to whatever it was that we were doing.
“I didn’t cancel with you because you weren’t important.” He closed the door and leaned against it, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. He was wearing his Cornell sweatshirt and loose jeans that looked soft and worn. His locs were down, hanging halfway down his torso.
His hair always smelled like peppermint and coconut, and more than anything, I wanted to get closer, press my nose against his neck.
Instead, I stood there, my own arms a mirror image of his.
I’d made a career and a reputation out of being a guy who could own a courtroom, no matter how stressful the situation. Not today. I was sweating, nervous that Patrice would see right through me.
“You could’ve told me you had an emergency. I’m not that fucking self-centered, Patrice.”
He pursed his lips at my words, like he’d bitten into something sour. We stood there again for a second, then another, in silence.
“Stop saying shit like that about yourself, Easton,” he said, softer than the words warranted.
His face relaxed and he pushed off the door. My entire body thrummed with the need to take the three steps to where he was. Still I didn’t move. I didn’t want to do anything that would get me on the other side of the door.
Patrice was the only person in my life who constantly made me feel like I was looking in from the outside.
I’d always been an insider. My life had been charmed in that way, very few doors had ever been closed for me. If there was an insiders club, a VIP section, I always had full access. Not with him. What I got, he allowed; there was no trampling in and assuming I would be welcome.
“I cancelled because I wanted to see you too much.” He shook his head and laughed, but there wasn’t very much humor in it. “I felt guilty that I’d been hurrying home to see you and—”
He started moving toward me, and waiting for him to cross those few feet felt like I was watching him cross an ocean.
Once he was there, so close I could lift my hand and tug on his locs, bring him down for kiss, I still didn’t move.
I wanted him to tell me why. Why he’d left me hanging after what we’d shared last night.
“Why, Patrice?” I could see the muscle in his jaw twitch, a gesture of frustration, but I knew, also of uncertainty. I’d seen him do that before, when he was figuring out how to proceed.
He closed those last few inches between us and grabbed my face.
His hands felt hot, and I almost flinched from the shock of it.
I hadn’t felt them on my skin in so long, as his fingers grazed my cheek, I recalled how rough his hands were.
Calloused. So unexpected for a man who worked with his mind.
I knew it was from many summers working on construction sites for a family friend, but it still made something tight unfurl in my chest to feel those hands on me again.
My professor, a man who earned his livelihood from his intellect, had hardened hands. I shivered as his lips touched mine, that mouth which had ruined me for any other, so close to giving me what I’d been dreaming of for months.
I don’t know how I managed it, but I stepped back, because I wasn’t playing this game anymore. He was going to have to tell me.
“Why?”
He sighed and closed his eyes like it was really costing him to have to say it. “Because I fucking want you. Because when I’m with you, you’re the only thing that matters and I never lose my focus, Easton.” He exhaled again, and it was a helpless, astonished sound. “You make me crazy.”
Those words, that confirmation that I wasn’t the only one who was far gone and in too deep.
It was like a dam broke and I wanted—no, I needed—to kiss him.
Our lips touched and it was…absolutely everything.
Patrice blindly walked us back until we hit the couch, as I scrambled to get my hands on more of him.
Without even coming up for air, I started pulling at his jeans, tugging them down.
We were both barefoot and pretty soon, we were down to our briefs and panting from what felt like running for miles without taking a breath.
Tongues tangling as our hands grabbed and scratched with barely refrained desperation.
I let go of him for a moment and leaned back, needing some distance. I wanted to tell him that I was pissed that he’d deprived us both of this. Of all the time we’d lost in this stupid game.
But when I looked at his shoulders and saw he was shaking, his face tight with the need to get closer, it finally dawned on me.
Staying away had cost Patrice, too.
“You know what I thought the first time I saw you like this?” I asked, my hands under his sweatshirt right above the raised skin on the tattoo on his chest. He was always so hot, like he had a fire roaring inside of him.
He shook his head, jaw tight.