Losing Hope

me, her eyes full of disappointment. “But if you really want to, then why don’t you?”

Ugh. I hate that look. If she keeps looking at me like that I’ll lose every shred of willpower I have left. Which isn’t much.

I tilt her face up to mine. “Because,” I whisper. “I’m afraid you won’t feel it.”

The look on her face when I say it is a mixture of realization and regret. She knows I’m referring to her lack of response to other guys and I’m not sure she knows how to respond. She’s silent, but I just want her to argue with me. I want her to tell me how wrong I am. I want her to tell me she already feels like I do, but instead she just nods and covers my hand with hers.

I close my eyes, wishing she had responded any other way. But the fact that she didn’t just proves that not kissing her tonight is exactly what needs to happen. I don’t understand why she’s so closed off, but I’ll wait however long I have to. There’s no way I could walk away from this girl now.

I pull her away from the refrigerator and wrap my arms around her. She slowly returns the embrace by clasping her arms around my waist and conforming to my chest. She willingly leans into me and just feeling her want me to hold her is better than anything I’ve felt this entire year. All she did was hug me back, but little does she know she just knocked a whole lot of life back into me. I press my lips into her hair and inhale. I could stay like this all night.

But the damn oven timer dings, reminding me that I’m cooking her dinner. If it means having to let her go, I’d rather starve. But I promised to cook for her, so I release my hold from around her and take a step back.

The embarrassed and almost heartbroken look on her face is the last thing I expect to see. She drops her gaze down at the floor and I realize that I just disappointed her. A lot. All I’m trying to do is go at a pace that’s best for her. I can’t have her thinking that I’m going slow because it’s my choice. Because if she didn’t have whatever issue it is she has with guys, we wouldn’t be standing in this kitchen right now. We’d be back on her bed just like we were last night, only this time she wouldn’t be reading to me.

I grab both of her hands and interlock our fingers. “Look at me.” She hesitantly lifts her face and looks at me. “Sky, I’m not kissing you tonight but believe me when I tell you, I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl more. So stop thinking I’m not attracted to you because you have no idea just how much I am. You can hold my hand, you can run your fingers through my hair, you can straddle me while I feed you spaghetti, but you are not getting kissed tonight. And probably not tomorrow, either. I need this. I need to know for sure that you’re feeling every single thing that I’m feeling the moment my lips touch yours. Because I want your first kiss to be the best first kiss in the history of first kisses.”

The sadness is gone from her eyes now and she’s actually smiling at me. I lift her hand and kiss it. “Now stop sulking and help me finish the meatballs. Okay?” I ask, wanting reassurance from her that she believes me. “Is that enough to get you through a couple more dates?”

She nods, still smiling. “Yep. But you’re wrong about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You said you want my first kiss to be the best first kiss, but this won’t be my first kiss. You know that.”

I don’t know how to break it to her, but she hasn’t been kissed before. Not like she deserves, anyway. I hate that she doesn’t realize this, so I take it upon myself to show her exactly what a real kiss feels like.

I let go of her hands and cup her face, walking her back against the refrigerator. I lean in until I can feel her breath on my lips and she gasps. I love the helpless, hungry look in her eyes right now, but it doesn’t compare to what it does to me when she bites her lip.

“Let me inform you of something,” I say, lowering my voice. “The moment my lips touch yours, it will be your first kiss. Because if you’ve never felt anything when someone’s kissed you, then no one’s ever really kissed you. Not the way I plan on kissing you.”

She exhales a pent-up breath and her arms are covered in chills again.

She felt that.

I grin victoriously and back away from her, then turn my attention to the stove. I can hear her sliding down the refrigerator. I turn around and she’s sitting on the floor, looking up at me in shock. I laugh.

“You okay?” I say with a wink.

She smiles up at me from the floor and pulls her legs up to her chest with a shrug. “My legs stopped working.” She laughs. “Must be because I’m so attracted to you,” she says sarcastically.

I look around the kitchen. “You think your mother has a tincture for people who are too attracted to me?”

“My mother has a tincture for everything,” she says.

I walk over and take her hand, then pull her up. I press my hand against the small of her back and pull her against me. She looks up at me with hooded eyes and a small gasp parts her lips. I lower my mouth to her ear and whisper, “Well, whatever you do . . . make sure you never take that tincture.”

Her chest rises against mine and she’s looking into my eyes like everything I’ve said tonight meant nothing. She wants me to kiss her and she doesn’t care that I’m doing everything in my power not to.

I slide my hand down her back and slap her on the ass. “Focus, girl. We have food to cook.”

* * *

“Okay, I have one,” she says, placing her cup down on the table.

We’re playing a game she suggested called Dinner Quest, where no question is off limits and eating and drinking isn’t allowed until the question has been answered. I’ve never heard of it, but I like the thought of being able to ask her anything I want to ask her.

“Why did you follow me to my car at the grocery store?” she asks.

I shrug. “Like I said, I thought you were someone else.”

“I know,” she says. “But who?”

Maybe I don’t want to play this game. I’m not ready to tell her about Hope. I’m definitely not ready to tell her about Les, but there’s no way around it because my answer just dug me into a hole. I shift in my seat and reach for my drink, but she snatches it out of my hands.

“No drinks. Answer the question first.” She sets my drink back down on the table and waits for my explanation. I really don’t want to go into my screwed up past, so I try to keep my answer simple.

“I wasn’t sure who you reminded me of,” I lie. “You just reminded me of someone. I didn’t realize until later that you reminded me of my sister.”

She makes a face and says, “I remind you of your sister? That’s kind of gross, Holder.”

Oh, shit. That’s not at all what I meant. “No, not like that. Not like that at all, you don’t even look anything like she did. There was just something about seeing you that made me think of her. And I don’t even know why I followed you. It was all so surreal. The whole situation was a little bizarre, and then running into you in front of my house later . . .”

Should I really tell her how that made me feel? How I thought for sure Les had something to do with it or that it was divine intervention or a freaking miracle? Because I honestly feel like it was too perfect to be chalked up to coincidence.

“It was like it was meant to happen,” I finally say.

She inhales a deep breath and I look up at her, afraid of how forward that might have been. She smiles at me and points to my drink. “You can drink now,” she says. “Your turn to ask me a question.”

“Oh, this one’s easy. I want to know whose toes I’m stepping on. I received a mysterious inbox message from someone today. All it said was, ‘If you’re dating my girl, get your own prepaid minutes and quit wasting mine, jackass.’”

“That would be Six,” she says, smiling. “The bearer of my daily doses of positive affirmation.”

Thank God.

“I was hoping you’d say that. Because I’m pretty competitive, and if it came from a guy, my response would not have been as nice.”

“You responded? What’d you say?”

“Is that your question? Because if it isn’t, I’m taking another bite.”

“Hold your horses and answer the question,” she says.

“Yes, I responded to her text. I said, ‘How do I buy more minutes?’”