I feel like any normal person would be afraid right now. Fear would be creeping along their skin, then soaking through, filling their insides. They'd be terrified of what might happen to them.
He could easily shove me against the wall or drag me inside and do whatever he likes to me. But for some reason, I'm not afraid at all. And that has me wanting to push him just that tiny bit further.
“Maybe,” I answer.
The second I say the word, Jacob releases my neck as if it burned him and takes a step back. A mixture of emotions flickers across his face before he settles on the same scowl he's usually wearing.
“Just . . . just stay away from me,” he says, taking another step back.
I hear his words, and I see the stubborn set of his jaw that says 'stay away.' But it's his eyes that tell a different story. And it's almost like they're telling me to stay.
Not at this very moment, but maybe, just maybe . . . stay in his life.
As he turns around, his foot kicks the bag I left on the ground for him, and once again, confusion fills his features as he looks between the bag and me.
“I brought you some fresh-baked bread from the bakery and then decided to add some cheese and wine to go with it.” I swallow, trying to wet my now dry throat. “Like I said earlier, it's to say sorry and thank you. You know. . .” With a wave of my hand, I gesture to the water behind me. “For saving me.”
At that, I turn around and leave him standing there by his front door. It's better to leave him thinking things over on his own.
Plus, I'm feeling a little flustered, and I'm not entirely sure what to make of his actions or my reaction to him for that matter. I didn't feel threatened at all, which considering the circumstances, I should have, shouldn't I?
It's just . . . I don't know. Him grabbing my neck seemed like an act. A calculated move to try and scare me away. Nothing more than that.
Maybe he really has changed?
Then again, maybe he's just scared of losing control once again, so he's pushing me away before that ever happens?
I reach up and touch my fingers to the area where his warm hand was wrapped around my neck. It's still tingling as if his skin contained a toxin that was left on me, and my blood continues to thrum through my veins as if I'm still standing just inches away from him.
It bothers me that I can't get a clear reading on him. But I think what bothers me the most is that I feel like I shouldn't care about him at all. I shouldn't want to be his friend and make him less lonely. And I definitely shouldn't be physically attracted to him in any way.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't see Tahnee sitting on my back deck until I'm walking up the steps.
“Oh!”
I quickly glance behind me, wondering if she saw where I was, but I realize there's no way she could have seen anything from where she's sitting.
“So that's how you keep your ass looking so good.”
“Huh?” I walk over and take a seat on the chair beside hers.
“Your ass. Walking along the sand is really good for it.”
I let out a halfhearted chuckle, still unsettled from what just happened with Jacob.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What's up with you?” Tahnee questions, apparently noticing my weird demeanor.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing.”
“Aw. Is your mom giving you a hard time again? How many times has she called this week?”
“Just the once, actually,” I go along with what she thinks the problem is and try to get my mind focused on the here and now. “But I feel like I should probably call her and make peace.”
“Well, you're better than me.” She grabs a section of her hair and begins braiding it. “My mom will point out something dumb that I did, and then I'm too stubborn to talk to her for a week.” She laughs at herself and rests her head back on the chair as she continues the braid.
To be honest, when it comes to my mom, I'm kind of shocked that it has only been the once that she has called this week. And even more so that I haven't heard from my father at all.