Lizzie
Chapter Eight
I’m certainly not one to shame people for what they read, but I’m surprised. My… whatever he is to me, buddy-reads romance novels with a guy named Georgie.
“All right. So, have you always done this or… I mean, were you into it first, or was he?”
His brow furrows, and it’s obvious I’m screwing this up. I knew immediately that the wording of my question was odd. But I want to get something out because I don’t want him to think I believe there is anything wrong with it.
“He?” Then his eyes widen, and his mouth falls open as if something dawns on him. He chuckles. “Oh, I get it. Georgie. That threw you off. My brother’s best friend, her name is Georgie. She’s the one who started reading them. I just joined her recently.”
A stab of jealousy cuts right through me. It takes me aback because it’s a new emotion for me. I’ve never felt it before, not even when Landon cheated on me. That’s how I knew things between us were really over.
“You buddy read with a girl?” I whisper.
He smiles at me. “Yeah, but we don’t read any open-door romance. All closed-door.”
That doesn’t make it feel better.
“Uh. Okay.” I glance at my watch and shimmy away from him so I can prepare to rise. The urge to leave overwhelms me. “Um, I should probably get home.”
He puts his large hand on my thigh, just above my knee, and leans forward. He dips his head, and his eyes search my face. But I’m embarrassed, and I turn my head to the side.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”
When I don’t answer right away, he uses a few fingers placed beneath my chin and gently guides my head upward. Still, I can’t manage to look him in the eye.
“Please, tell me what I did wrong. Is it because she’s a girl? I swear it’s all closed-door romance and she’s only sixteen—”
My eyes dart to meet his now.
“What?” My heart races. He’s a creeper? “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” I scramble to stand, but he’s just as fast and positions himself in front of me, blocking my way out of the aisle.
“Move,” I order him.
He runs a hand through his hair but holds his ground. “Please, tell me what I did wrong first?”
“I said move.”
His facial features fall, and he steps aside. When he does, I race past him.
“Get your stuff and meet me at the door so I can lock up,” I say the words without even looking back at him.
“Lizette,” he calls after me. I ignore him.
A minute later, I’m at the door waiting for him when he stalks over. He’s sulking, and he stops to stare at me.
“If you’re going to kick me out and be mad at me, at least tell me why.”
How the hell does he not know why?
“You buddy-read romance books with another woman. I’m sorry, a child. A sixteen-year-old child.”
“What are you saying?” There’s genuine confusion in his voice.
“I’m saying it skeeves me out that the man I’ve spent so much time alone with dates sixteen-year-old girls, and—”
“Ew! Don’t be gross!” He drops his bag and grabs his hair with both fists. “Christ, Lizette. I’m not dating her. You think I’m some kind of perv?”
I fold my arms across my chest and stare at him. “What is it then?” I challenge.
“She’s like a little sister to me! Not a woman. I mean, she’s a female, sure, but you know what I mean.”
“So, you’d read romance novels with your little sister?” I challenge.
He narrows his eyes, then tilts his head.
“If I had one, and reading—even if it were romance—was the one thing she loved, and she came from a shit family where no one even noticed her unless it was to knock her around.” He sucks in a breath and continues before I can stop him.
“And if she had no friends except a guy like my brother, who seems oblivious to the fact that she’s not just another one of the guys, and maybe needs someone to care about her interests outside of their shared ones?
Then, yes. Fuck, yes, I absolutely would. And I wouldn’t care who knew it.”
He’s staring at me with a piercing gaze. I feel like an idiot for assuming the worst of him.
“Okay.”
“What?” he asks. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m off my rocker now.
“I said okay.”
It’s so much more than okay, but I’m scared to tell him that. Here’s a man who sees other people and tries to make their lives better, not just looks through them or past them. I’m feeling like I’m on the emotional edge, and it wouldn’t take much to push me over it.
“That’s it?” he asks. “Okay?”
My frustration escalates, and I’m on the precipice of losing control of my words, my emotions. And that terrifies me.
He watches me closely, and it’s too intense.
“Yes, that’s it. God, I’m sorry I reacted without letting you explain first. I’m sorry that you totally throw me off kilter!
” My eyes burn with tears that I’m so close to letting go.
Guess I fell over the edge faster than I expected.
I try to soften my tone. “I’m sorry that I felt jealous when I thought you were with someone else!
But imagine you like a girl so much that it terrifies you—”
“All right. It’s okay.” He tosses up his hands, as if he thinks that can stop me now that I’m tumbling down the rocky path of unrestrained emotions over the top of the cliff.
“It terrifies you because you wish it could be more, but it can’t. You really want to kiss her, but you’re afraid of that, too. And—”
He reaches over, grips the strap of my bag, then pulls it off my arm and places it on the floor next to his. It’s enough to slow my spiral.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice filled with suspicion.
He moves closer to me, peering into my eyes. I take a step back, and he matches it with a step forward. We continue this dance until my back is against the wall.
“Holden?” I whisper.
He says nothing at first but brushes the pad of his thumb along my cheek with a tenderness I’ve never experienced before. My breathing picks up.
“I do,” he says.
“You do what?” I’m confused and struggle to keep my thoughts straight with him this close to me.
“I do like a girl—you, in case you’re not sure—so much it terrifies me, and God, I want it to be more.
I want it to be everything. So, if your being uncertain about how I feel is the reason you think it can’t be, then let me ease that worry.
Because I really want it, too. Why wouldn’t I?
You’re spectacular, smart, and stunning. You’re everything.”
“I, uh…”
“So, tell me now, did you mean it?” he asks. “Did you really mean that you want me to kiss you?”
Jesus, the way he’s speaking and looking at me. The way he’s touching me still with that thumb on my cheek has me about ready to lose the ounce of control I have left.
I should say no. It would be the prudent thing to do.
I bite my lower lip and nod. “Yes, I meant it,” I whisper, not tearing my eyes from his.
His pupils dilate, and his hand nearest my face slides into my hair while his other hand simultaneously moves to my waist. He holds my gaze as he moves toward me.
I tremble with anticipation, and when his lips finally press against mine, a whimper escapes me.
The rumbling groan that he emits afterward is nearly my undoing.
I open my mouth tentatively, not sure if he wants to take the kiss deeper.
He leaves me with no doubt as his tongue enters my mouth, tangling with mine, and we fit perfectly together.
With his hand in my hair, he guides the movement of my head to deepen the kiss.
Now, it’s no whimper that comes from me but a moan of pleasure.
He pushes his body closer to me and squeezes my waist in response.
I have never been kissed like this before. Never craved getting closer to someone as I’m dying to get to him. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but I could spend the entire night here kissing him, and it still wouldn’t feel like enough.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen because we’re interrupted by one of my damn alarms. Probably my warning alarm that it’s fifteen minutes until I should be in bed.
I fumble and swipe at my wrist to silence it, but by the time I manage to, it’s too late.
He pulls back from the kiss and rests his forehead against mine.
“It can be more.” He says it like a promise, but he doesn’t know why I’m nearly positive it can’t be. “It will be.”
He tugs me toward him and spins us so his back is against the wall, and my head rests on his chest while he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.
With a kiss on top of my head, he whispers into my hair. “It already is.”