9. Teddy
TEDDY
THE PROBLEM WITH MUSES
The apartment feels smaller than usual. Not physically. The walls haven’t moved, and the furniture hasn’t rearranged itself while I was gone. But somehow the place feels different as I pace from one end of the living room to the other.
The music from the festival drifts faintly through the open window, carried on the night air. People are probably still dancing, still laughing. Meanwhile, I’m wearing a path into my apartment floor and pretending I’m not thinking about the woman I kissed and abandoned like an absolute coward.
My hand brushes my mouth as I rub my face, and the memory hits instantly. The mask. The way she looked at me. That split second before I kissed her. Jesus. What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t. That’s the problem. One second we were standing there, the next she looked up at me with those impossible blue eyes, and every sensible thought I’d ever had packed its bags and left the building.
I definitely shouldn’t have kissed a woman I barely know.
And I sure as hell shouldn’t have run afterward.
My stomach twists. I can’t stop replaying it. The confusion on her face. The way I turned around and walked away like a complete idiot.
I drag both hands through my hair and stare at the ceiling. Fantastic. I’ve been in town less than a month, and I’ve already managed to embarrass myself in front of the most beautiful woman I’ve met in years. Years, not months.
Something uncomfortable shifts in my chest, and I shove it back down where it belongs.
I didn’t come to Boudica Springs looking for a relationship.
I came here because my career is hanging by a thread, and I need the space to figure out how to fix it.
This town is temporary. I’m temporary. The kiss was a mistake.
The lie settles heavily in my chest.
My gaze drifts toward the camera sitting on the kitchen table. Toward the memory card inside. The photographs I haven’t looked at yet. Suddenly I know exactly why I’ve been avoiding them.
I should look.
But I don’t.