“Stop,” I said, holding up my hand. “Just stop. I don’t expect anything from you, Reid. I’m not here to force you into spending time with me if that’s not what you want.”
“Is that whatyouwant?”
I stared at him incredulously. “Of course it is.”
“Okay. Well, I certainly know that the dreams I’ve been having about us mean you don’t want to talk me out of it, so how about we just go with it for now?” he said, and my mouth fell open at his matter-of-fact tone. “Oh, and another thing—I’d like you to take me out driving.”
My jaw dropped even farther.
“I don’t want to be afraid anymore, and what better person to be there if I have a panic attack than you, right?”
I was speechless. Utterly fucking speechless.
“So if it’s all right with you, maybe you can help me one night this week after work,” he said. It must’ve occurred to him then that I hadn’t agreed yet, because he frowned. “Have I shocked you mute? Nod once if you understand.”
I nodded once.
“Okay, nod twice if you’ll take me driving and play whatever song you were jamming out to when you pulled in today.”
Oh shit.I’d been busted. I nodded twice.
A smile crossed Reid’s face then, the first one I’d seen since he sat down, and it reminded me so much of the way he’d smiled at me before that it was like a physical tug on my heart.He scooted to the edge of his seat and held his hand out to shake mine. His long fingers were cool from where they’d been wrapped around the glass, a welcome relief from my always-scorching palms.
“Well, Ollie,” he said. “It looks like we have a deal.”
twenty-eight
REID
IT HAD BEEN a restless night, and an even more restless day. Ever since I’d left Ollie’s house after our talk the evening before, I’d been barraged with memories of him, like my mind was having a picture show with no intermission in sight. It was as if when I’d finally given myself permission to understand and explore a possible friendship with Ollie, my brain let loose, like water bursting through a dam after a long shutdown. And with the memories came the feelings I’d associated with them as they’d happened, and that was the part I was desperately trying to work through. All the feelings of longing, of lust, and even the other L-word I couldn’t begin to bring myself to think about. It all hit me full force while lying in bed, while in the shower, while making lunch. I’d given up trying to drown it out with TV, because what did you need a television for when your mind was a twenty-four-seven Netflix binge?
It was nuts. Fucking nuts. And it wouldn’t go away.
After a long, hot shower, I threw on the first shirt I saw in my closet, but after glancing in the mirror, I ripped it off and tried another. And then another. Tonight Ollie would be picking me up after he got off work, which meant I’d had a long day to stress about seeing him again, and I didn’t want to look too dressed up,like I was trying too hard. Shorts would be too casual, so those were out…maybe jeans? Ten shirts later, I finally settled on a deep ruby one and then stepped into the bathroom to shave. But as I lifted the razor, my mind drifted.
“I like this,” Ollie said, running his thumb along the edge of my five o’clock shadow.
“Do you?” I’d meant to shave that morning, but I’d been in a rush to see him and it slipped my mind. “So I should keep it?”
“You look hot as fuck either way. But this”—he leaned in and brushed his stubbled cheek against mine—“would feel damn good against my thighs…”
Holy fuck.My heart thudded at the memory…and I put the razor down.
True to his word, Ollie was waiting in the parking lot of my apartment complex at six p.m. on the dot, and as I walked out of my place and caught sight of him below, the apprehension I’d been feeling all day about seeing him again disappeared.
He was leaned against the hood of his car, his massive arms crossed over his broad chest, the black t-shirt he wore stretched to its limits. His hair looked darker, but as I came down the stairs and got a better view, I realized that was because it was wet, like he’d come straight over after a shower. The effect was…well, unnerving, if the way my stomach flipped was any indication.
“Hey there,” he said, pushing off the hood and giving me a crooked grin. I wasn’t sure whether I should give him a hug or shake his hand or fist-bump or whatever it was we were supposed to do to greet each other, so I came to a stop in front of him and waited to see what he’d do. Like he sensed myuncertainty, he shoved his hands in his pockets, giving me an out I wasn’t sure I wanted.
“Hey. Just get off work?” I asked.Duh, of course he did. You already knew that.
“Yeah,” he said, ducking his head and running his hand through the damp strands like he was self-conscious he hadn’t had a chance to dry them. I wanted to tell him he didn’t need to be, because wet was a good look for him, but maybe that wasn’t the best way to start off the conversation.
“So…how was your day?” I asked.
“It was a little rough. Much better now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, and then shook my head. “I mean the rough part, not the better now part.”