Page 18 of Falling for Fury

“The women… from last night? C’mon man, where is your brain?” Caleb looks almost annoyed at me not recalling last night. Of course, I certainly do remember last night, but it isn’t ‘the Latina’, who I believe has a name, Rosie, it is the blonde she-devil who has her claws in my chest.

“The woman from last night, the blonde? That was Addison.”

“Ohhh, you mean the Addison you met at a Play House… De Luca’s sister? That Addison?”

“One and only.” I should try to sound less wistful. “Now, unless you have that sales report I asked for, can you leave? You pest.” I throw some humor into the last bit, and he rolls his eyes at me.

“Fine. Report was emailed to you yesterday. I am sure, with all that focus you haven’t lost, you probably have read it already?” I lift my eyes in a deadpan at him, and he doesn’t even try to hide his smirk as he strolls from my office.

By Wednesday night, I have to lock my phone in a kitchen cabinet, forcing myself not to internet stalk her and let her come to me. Then the power is mine, and I can have a bit more wriggle room in encouraging a late-night meet up. By Thursday afternoon, I am calling Matt and asking for her number. So much for retaining the power.

“What the fuck, Karvelas? That is my little sister!”

“Actually, your sister-in-law.”

“I have known her for more than half her life; she is practically my sister. Why do you need her number?”

“Okay, I didn’t say need…” Although, it does feel that way. “After we ran into each other at Puck’s on Monday night, we had a great time. I just wanted to reach out… see if—” See what, exactly Noah? Where are you going with this because it certainly isn’t a relationship? “Look, I just want to take her out for a drink. Is that so bad?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you, Noah.”

“And as my friend, you know what a complete gentleman I am, and Addy would be lucky to have a drink with me?” I don’t usually pull the boyish charm on my guy friends, but apparently I’m desperate.

“You go through women like you change your underwear. I am not letting you do that to Addy.” He says it like he has practiced this sentence. Ending on a sigh, like it’s obvious that she is completely off-limits.

“She is not as fragile as you think. I’m sure if anyone actually listened to her, you’d all probably know that.” Where the fuck did that come from?

“Oh, and you know her so well after one conversation?” I can’t fault him for speaking truth. How do I feel like this after one real conversation? Sure, we had met a couple times before, but Monday night had been the real Addy. I could see it. Hear it and feel it in the way she spoke to me, looked at me, and when her body released into a sob as she embraced me, I could feel her strength.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it.” I disconnect the call and scold myself for being so desperate. I had already decided she was a relationship girl, and I am not that person.

She hasn’t contacted you for a reason. Move on dude. I shake my head, grab my gym bag, and leave the house.

I run back up the stairs to my brownstone, throw open the doors, dump my gym bag in the entry, and stare at my phone.

The message came through as I was benching, my AirPods in my ears reading out the message, and I nearly crushed my chest as the message was read aloud and realized who had finally texted me. I had been too stunned to finish my set. Being near the end of my workout, anyway, I made a fast effort in grabbing my stuff and heading to my car, driving home and racing inside so I could evaluate the situation.

I stand in the space at the bottom of the stairs, my gym bag sprawled out on my oak floorboards. I typically like to keep things clean and tidy, the house generally is a minimalist design with the major furniture pieces and only a touch of décor. I kept the office and my home much the same—sleek sophistication. But the mess spread out on my floors is the least of my worries right now.

I can’t work out what this… this need is. To be around her, to see her face, to touch soft cheeks, and work for the smiles and hear her snarky comebacks.

I want to get to know her. There is something about her that makes me want to just be around her.

Friends. I think we’d be great friends.

I swallow the obvious denial, save her number, and spend about twenty minutes pacing the room typing and backspacing my response before I scold myself. “God, Noah, fucking grow a set and just ask her out.”

I stare at my sent message and decide maybe a drink actually sounds presumptuous? Shit. What if she thinks I am just trying to get in her pants? Well, that’d be nice.

God, what happened to me? I shake my head and type another message.

Honestly, I deserve for her to leave me on read at this point. I squeeze my eyes shut, curse myself, and throw my phone on the bench as I head to shower. See if I can locate my balls.

My shower does nothing to clear my head. I still think about Addison. Her strawberry smell seems to be haunting me, along with the sway of her hips when she walks in front of me, the way her blonde waves cascade down and juuuust touch her lower back. I picture her bent over, those golden waves wrapped around my forearm as I pull her back against me. The way she fit so well in my arms and how she had immediately relaxed when I wrapped my arms around her. The little sounds she made when she finally gave me a smirk and a giggle. I wonder what other sounds she would make.

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