The sound the glass makes when I set it on the counter is a little loud and dramatic, and it makes him laugh. I wipe my mouth and curse myself for being so obvious.
His laugh is cut short when his cell phone rings. He quickly stands and pulls it out of his pocket. He glances at the screen, silences his phone, and slides it back into his pocket. His eyes move around the living room once more before they land on me again. “I should probably go.”
Wow. This went well.
I nod and take his cup when he slides it toward me. I turn around and begin washing it. “Well, thanks for the job,” I say. “And for walking me home.”
I don’t turn around to watch him leave. I feel like my obvious inexperience just killed the entire vibe we had going. And I’m not upset with myself for that; I’m upset with him. I’m upset that he would be turned off by the fact that I’m not being forward or throwing myself at him. I’m upset that he gets one phone call, more than likely from Hannah, and he immediately uses it as his opportunity to hightail it out of here.
This is exactly why I never do things like this.
“It wasn’t a girl.”
His voice startles me and I immediately spin around to find him standing right behind me. I start to respond, but I don’t know what to say, so I just clamp my mouth shut. I feel stupid for getting so angry just now, even though he has no idea what was going through my head.
He takes a step closer and I press myself against the counter behind me, leaving the two feet of space between us that I need in order to remain coherent.
“I don’t want you to think I’m leaving because another girl just called me,” he says, explaining his remark in more detail.
I love that he just said this, and it makes all the negative thoughts I was having about him disappear. Maybe I was wrong. I do tend to have irrational reactions from time to time.
I turn around and face the sink again because I don’t want him to see how much it pleases me that he wasn’t making up an excuse to leave. “It’s not my business who calls you, Owen.”
I’m still facing the sink when his hands grip the counter on either side of me. His face moves close to the side of my head and I can feel his breath on my neck. I don’t know how it happens, but my entire body moves involuntarily until his chest is flush against my back. We aren’t nearly as close as we were during our dance, but it feels a whole hell of a lot more intimate considering we aren’t actually dancing.
He rests his chin on my shoulder and I close my eyes and inhale. The way he makes me feel is so overwhelming; I find it difficult to continue standing. I’m gripping the counter, hoping he doesn’t notice how white my knuckles are.
“I want to see you again,” he whispers.
I don’t think about all the reasons why that’s such a bad idea. I don’t think about what my focus should be on. Instead, I think about how good it feels when he’s this close to me and how I want so much more of it. All the bad parts of me answer him and force my voice to say, “Okay,” because all the good parts of me are too weak to offer up a defense.
“Tomorrow night,” he says. “Will you be home?”
I think about tomorrow, and for a few seconds I have no idea what month it is, much less what day of the week it is. After grasping where and who I am, and remembering that this is still Thursday and tomorrow is Friday, I conclude that I am, in fact, free tomorrow night.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good,” he says. I’m almost positive he’s smiling right now. I can hear it in his voice.
“But . . .” I turn and face him. “I thought you learned your lesson about mixing business with pleasure. Isn’t that how you found yourself in a bind today?”
He grins with a very subtle laugh. “Consider yourself fired.”
I smile, because I’m not sure I’ve ever been so happy to lose a job. I would choose his coming over tomorrow night over working for $100 an hour any day. And that surprises me. A lot.
He turns and heads toward the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Auburn Mason Reed.”
We’re both smiling when we lock eyes for the two seconds it takes for him to close the door behind him. I fall forward and lay my head on my arms, sucking in all the air I’ve been missing tonight, straight into my lungs.
“Oh, em, gee,” I exhale. This was definitely an unexpected departure from my usual routine.
A sudden knock on my door startles me, and I stand upright just as the door begins to crack open. He reappears in the doorway. “Will you lock your door behind me? You don’t live in the best neighborhood.”
I can’t help but grin at his request. I walk to the door and he pushes it open a little further. “And one more thing,” he adds. “You shouldn’t be so quick to follow strangers into random buildings. That’s not very smart for someone who doesn’t know anything about Dallas.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Well, you shouldn’t be so desperate for employees,” I say in my own defense. I lift my hand to the lock on the door, but instead of pulling it shut, he opens it even further.
“And I don’t know how it is in Portland, but you also shouldn’t allow strangers inside your apartment.”
“You walked me home. I couldn’t deny you the use of my restroom.”
He laughs. “Thank you. I appreciate that. Just don’t let anyone else in to use your restroom, okay?”
I grin at him flirtatiously, proud that I even have it in me. “We haven’t even been on a date yet and you’re already trying to dictate who can and can’t use my restroom?”