Page 44 of Before I Loved You

She grabs a napkin, patting down the liquid on the table. “I-I have to be up early for work.”

I reach out, brushing my thumb over a drop of liquid on her chin. She tenses beside me, but as my hand remains on her, I feel her face soften, almost pressing into me for support as her eyes close.

Natalie pulls Vanessa beside the table and asks, “Is everyone ready to go?”

Nate laughs, shaking his head and pushing Jason out of the booth to get to his girl.

Wrapping his arms around Natalie’s waist, he kisses the top of her head and says, “Let’s go, baby.” He looks at me with a sly smirk. “Paul, do you mind taking Sarah home? I know there wasn’t a lot of room in the back of my car for everyone.”

Sarah’s hands clench on her lap, appearing unhappy by this new arrangement.

“Is that okay?” I ask loud enough so that only she can hear me.

Her head turns, facing me. “It’s fine,” she says reluctantly.

* * *

The ride to Sarah’s apartment is quiet. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and her eyes have been glued to the window beside her the whole time. I’m pretty sure she’s still mad at me for withholding the orgasm from her, and I don’t blame her, but I’m determined to knock down this brick wall between us, even if I have to do it one block at a damn time.

“Sarah, about earlier…”

“It’s fine, Paul.” She doesn’t look my way.

This isn’t how we are going to solve this.

I put my blinker on and pull into a nearby deserted parking lot, stopping by a line of trees in the back.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking around nervously.

“I just want to talk.”

She sighs and leans back in her chair, staring forward.

It’s a slight improvement.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Her chin trembles as she takes a deep breath.

I twist in my seat and reach over, gently grabbing her chin and facing her toward me.

Here goes nothing.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night,” I confess. My hand glides down her neck, and my thumb rests on her pulse point, which is beating rapidly under my touch.

She looks down when she whispers, “Me neither.”

I brush a strand of her raven-black hair behind her ear. “Then why does it feel like you’re purposely pushing me away?”

Her eyes meet mine, and it feels like she’s trying to tell me so much in one look, but I can’t understand the confusion and sorrow in her eyes.

She shakes her head. “Because, like I said, I don’t do relationships—”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m calling bullshit on your sorry ass of an excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse—”

---