Page 172 of Play Along

“I like when you smile, Ken.”

“Me too.”

“Just for clarification, I think you’re stunning all of the time, but happy looks real fucking good on you.”

Leaning back, my head hits the middle of his chest as we wait for the fireworks to start.

Maybe no one has ever let you feel safe and that’s why you’re not affectionate.

I remember those words so clearly. He said them that night we went to dinner when I asked him to teach me how to be better with physical closeness.

I didn’t know then, but he was right.

Hands sliding down his biceps, I pull his arms in to fold over me just as the first firework travels into the air. There’s a collective wondrous gasp as red light illuminates the dark Chicago sky.

“You are, right?” he asks low in my ear as the show begins to build. “Happy.”

Tilting to see him, the concern is evident on his face.

Of course I’m happy, but he’s referring to how I feel about not going to San Francisco, and I don’t want to talk about that right now.

I don’t want to talk at all.

“Come with me,” I say, taking his hand in mine and pulling him to follow me down the pier.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a different place I want to watch the fireworks from. Some place where I can show you just how happy you make me.”

The door to my apartment isn’t even closed before I toss his hat I’m wearing to the floor and slip my T-shirt over my head.

“Well, fuck,” he drawls.

“Exactly. That’s exactly what I want you to do. Fuck me.” Crossing the living room, I throw open the curtains, allowing them to frame the fireworks show that’s still going on outside.

“Right here.”

Kicking off my shoes, I slip my shorts down my legs, leaving me in only my bra and underwear, standing right there in front of the window. Looking like the needy woman I am.

I’m so fucking desperate for him, it’d be embarrassing if I didn’t know exactly the way he felt about me.

Across the room, Isaiah closes the door without looking away from me, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he stares.

Slowly, deliberately slowly, I reach behind and unclasp my bra.

“Close the curtain.”

“No.”

His jaw tics. “Kenny, I could give two fucks what the view out there looks like, but I’m sure as hell not sharing this view of you with anyone else. Close the fucking curtain.”

A rebellious smile hitches when I allow my bra to drop off my shoulders.

“Kennedy.”

“It’s a one-way mirror, caveman. We can see out, but they can’t see in.”

A beat passes before he huffs a laugh, but it’s dry and without humor. Isaiah crosses the living room, right to the bar where some too expensive whiskey sits in a decanter. He pours himself a glass, leans back against the counter, and slowly brings the whiskey to his lips.

---