Chapter 15 #2
My hands tremble on my empty mug. I’ve only ever been praised for being devout.
Pious. For goodness sake, I won the “ethics” award at my high school—“ethics” being code for “good religious girl.” And all of that was a performance, 24/7.
The real me was buried under twenty layers of shame and guilt.
Now I’m living as honestly as I can, and Danny calls that “magnetic.” As if who I am at heart is better than any performance.
As if being myself is a gift to the world instead of a wrench in everyone’s plans.
He steps toward me and gently removes the mug from my hands. “You’re so beautiful that it’s distracting.”
He’s told me I’m beautiful before, but I was done up then. Although, I did suspect the word reached beyond the bounds of that moment in time. Now I see that he sits at this desk and watches me for hours and is … distracted.
I swallow. “Are you ready to show me upstairs?” Where his bedroom is. Where we’ll be sleeping tonight.
He drops the mugs in the kitchen on the way, and then rests his hand on the small of my back to lead me toward the stairs; how is that warm weight simultaneously calming and arousing?
Once upstairs, he heads to the door on the right first. I swoon as soon as it opens: The wall opposite the doorway centers a huge bay window above a pillow-laden bench.
It’s flanked by high bookcases crowded with all of Danny’s books.
I make a beeline toward the shelves, running my hand across the various titles and plucking out unfamiliar ones to read excerpts.
I’m itching to catalog every book he has on these shelves.
I need to know exactly what he reads, how he organizes, what he’s missing, and what I might be missing.
I’m halfway down one bookshelf before I remember that Danny and I were supposed to be on a brief tour before bed, and he hasn’t said anything since we entered this room.
I turn suddenly to find him sitting on the edge of a twin bed, smiling softly at me.
The only other furniture in this room is a handsome writing desk.
“How long have you been watching me?” I ask.
“It’s been about forty-five minutes.”
I grimace. “Whoops, sorry.”
“Don’t be. I could watch you examine my books all night.”
I smile. “So this is the library slash guest room?”
He nods. “Sometimes Charlie crashes here if we’re working late or if I’m closer than his apartment after a night out.”
“Cute.” A beat as I scan my eyes over the remaining shelves. “You know you’re gonna have to physically remove me from these books, right?”
His smile flares bright. “I can do that.”
He charges toward me and scoops me over his shoulder in a fireman hold before I can even blink.
I laugh wildly and cling to him as he hauls me across the hall to his primary bedroom suite.
He pitches me onto the middle of a king-size bed, the soft grays and greens recognizable from the selfie he once took.
I scurry backward up the bed to escape him, laughing and yelping, and he scrambles over me and pins me to the mattress with his body, my legs immediately parting to welcome his powerful lap against my panties.
“So what’s the verdict, muse of mine?”
My heart pounds and I can’t help but squirm against the strong, hard lines of him.
“Verdict?” I run my hands up over his shoulders and around his neck.
He’s propped up slightly on his elbows so I can breathe under him, and his hair hangs like curtains between us. “On my house.”
The same question I asked him about Runzhou’s and my apartment. Except now I see in the lamplight that there’s a tightness to his eyes—a nervousness, even. He cares what I think about his place.
I kiss his nose. “Honestly?”
He smiles softly and kisses the corner of my mouth. “Always.”
I slip my fingers up his neck and into his hair. He lets loose a satisfied little sound, as if he knows that my fingers belong in his hair as much as I do. “I love this house. I love it, Danny.”
He sighs and drops his nose to nuzzle my hair.
“Only you would own a house at the ripe age of twenty-four. Overachiever.”
He chuckles against me. “I had a few high-level donors about two years into UNsweet Tea,” he manages as I lay kisses down his slightly stubbled jaw.
“Once the videos were hitting a million views. I badly needed a proper studio and equipment, and it made the most sense to buy a place so I could set it up the way I needed without dealing with landlords and red tape.”
“Plus,” I breathe as he attacks this spot on my neck that melts me into the bed. “You’d obviously want to settle and build your life here.”
He pulls back, brow furrowed. “How do you know that?”
“You love the South, and you love this city.”
He’s still puzzling at me. “Everyone thinks I hate the South because of my documentaries.”
I huff a derisive laugh. “That’s ridiculous. You critique it because you love it. Because you think it’s worth improving. Because the people here matter. That love and care are palpable in your work.”
My words hang heavy a moment, his brow still furrowed.
Then he dips his face to mine and kisses my mouth with aching sweetness—a thank-you.
We linger there, breathing into one another.
It’s not rough or dirty, but I like this kiss too.
A lot. I’ve always sensed layers with Danny, and I think we may need layers of touch, too, to account for the complexity.
“Hey, Danny?” I whisper.
“Yes, Christina?”
“You’re distractingly beautiful too.”
His smile unfurls slowly.
Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I wish I had a camera to capture it.