It feels like only minutes later, but when I open my eyes, I see how dark it is outside and know I must have been out for a while. I climb out of bed and see the loft is dark. It’s also quiet, so I'm assuming Finn is still at work.
I go into the kitchen, flicking on the light. My stomach is grumbling, and I decide to make some tacos, knowing we’ll eat the leftovers tomorrow. When the meat is sizzling in the pan, I look over to see Mya walking into the kitchen.
She’s wearing the same thing she was this morning after her shower. A thin striped tee with a wide neck and little jean shorts. She’s beautiful with no effort. Her hair is down, the curls so fucking sexy.
“Hungry?” I ask, at this point not even expecting an audible reply.
She nods her head and walks to the fridge. “I bought some things earlier.”
She pulls out some lunchmeat and closes the door, grabbing a loaf of bread from the counter. “A sandwich?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Nothing wrong with a sandwich for dinner.” She grabs two pieces of bread and keeps her head down.
I don’t like it, how her head is tilted down looking away, trying to disappear.
“There is when there are tacos.”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
The comment stings, and I'm not sure why. “From me?”
She looks over at me, her voice not hiding how tired she is. “From anyone.”
Pride. I get it.
I also don’t say it. I don’t want to kick her down even if I want to challenge her. Now just doesn’t seem like the right time to do that.
“Okay.”
“That’s it?” She’s gaping at me, those brown eyes showing her curiosity.
“What do you mean?” I turn off the burner and move the skillet back.
“No more questions? No trying to get me to eat tacos?”
I grin slyly at her. “Why? You want some?”
She looks away again, fastening the bread package closed and putting her sandwich together. “No.”
There’s that word again.
“You know, eventually, when a human being gets turned down enough, they stop trying.”
She freezes and then turns her body to face me. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Never been rejected?” That I can imagine.
“Never had anyone try.” Now I'm the one who’s curious as she turns away, grabbing her sandwich and fading away down the hall.
Wanting to dissipate into thin air.
I know that feeling.
I know it well.
I sit straight up in bed, my heart racing and my breathing rapid. Another loud crack and my bedroom is lit up with lightening, the rain pelting the window.
Jesus.
I’ve only been here for a week, and Nashville has been pounded with thunderstorms for three days of it. I’m not afraid of storms, but it pulled me from my deep sleep, and my body is on full alert now.
I decide to get up, maybe grab a drink of water. When I walk out of my room, I brush against a hard body. Bare flesh. I look up at the figure in the dark and see Jase through the small amount of light streaming in from the streetlights outside. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, with his hair all tousled and messy.
He must have been asleep too.
“Fuck! What time is it?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t check.”
I hear muffled sounds coming from the bedroom across from mine and then the sounds grow louder and are distinctly feminine.
Jase shakes his head. “Guess Finn found someone tonight.”
I saw him at the bar during my shift tonight. If I had to guess, it’s the busty redhead who was all over him when I clocked out. “Guess so.”
“You okay?” He yawns slightly, using his hand to cover his mouth. “You aren’t afraid of storms, are you?”
I nearly laugh at that. If only I were afraid of something like that. No, my fears run much deeper. “No. I’m not. But it’s loud.”
He agrees in a nod. “Well, you’re welcome to hang out in my room til it passes.”
“Are you afraid of storms?” I question, eyeing him, maybe a little lilt in my voice that I didn’t pull back in time.
He grins. “Yeah. You wanna hold me?”
I roll my eyes. There’s that flirtatious asshole he was the first night. “Hold yourself.”
He laughs at that. “Come on. I’m not so bad.”
That’s what I'm afraid of. Lightning crackles outside, and I sigh, lifting my shoulders. “Fine.”
He looks surprised but then leads me into his room. I look around at the room that has the same layout as mine. Bed, table and a dresser. He has a small flat screen television on his dresser though. He leaves the door open, and I take a seat on the edge of his bed.
He sits at a respectful distance, and I'm appreciative.
This is stupid. What are we going to do? I look at his bed, the covers are pushed down and haphazard, so I'm pretty sure he was just sleeping here, and I try not to think about all of the things we could do there.
It’s been a while since I've been touched by anyone. And I don’t want to give in to the inherent carnal need for human contact. I want to believe I’ll be just fine without that.
“So, how’s work going?” His smile is friendly, but I don’t think Jase is all that friendly. I don’t think he’d hurt me on purpose either.
“Oh, so that’s the small talk we’re going for? Work?”
He chuckles and lays back on his bed, looking up at the ceiling, and I try not to look at his body stretched out on the bed. I try to ignore how much space his large, muscular form takes up on the bed. “At least I tried.”
He’s always trying. I don’t know this man. We met a week ago. But still . . . it feels like he wants me to be okay. He wants me to eat. He wants to ask how I like work. He tries, puts so much
