Page 47 of De-Witched

“No. We do.” His skin was hot and he welcomed the breeze that kissed his exposed skin. And couldn’t think of what to say.

At least thirty seconds passed before she shifted the bucket to her other hand. “Okay. Let’s just—”

“I’m sorry.” The words snapped out. Not exactly apologetic.

Her cautious face turned to him.

“I’m not...good with...people.” Understatement. “I don’t want you to be...” A pause as he searched for the words. “At odds with me.”

Thoughts rolled through her eyes like a summer storm. She set the bucket down. “Look. Thanks for apologizing. I get it’s not something you do and I appreciate it. But we keep hokey-pokeying and I’m tired of being in, out, in, out.” As he struggled to understand what she meant, she tugged a curl in obvious frustration. “What I mean is you want to be left alone, and I think it’s time I do what you want.”

She was really conceding. No more sassy smiles. No more calling him Gabe or teasing him for being serious. No more blue eyes watching him or words intended to aggravate. No more human distraction.

This was what he’d wanted.

Panic, dark and thick, grabbed him by the throat. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” he said more firmly. He pushed away the voice screaming this was a mistake. “No more in and out.” Too late, he realized that was probably not the best way to put it. He stared her down as her lips quivered.

She firmed them. “No more in and out, huh?”

He nodded. “I propose we be friends.”

“We can’t be friends, Gabriel.”

“Why?”

“You just said so this morning.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I said you were acting like we’re friends.”

If how fast she blinked was an indication of an impending eruption, he was about to have Mount Vesuvius on his hands.

He hurried on. “I told you. I’m not good at...this. But I want to be. Friends. Or friendly acquaintances, at least.”

The pressure inside his chest relaxed as her lips curved.

“That sounds like Gabriel Goodnight,” she said dryly. She pressed those same lips together and then sighed. In defeat. “And what do friendly acquaintances do?”

He gestured. “Clean the wall together?”

She rolled her eyes but bent to pick up the bucket. He crossed, taking it from her. Their fingers touched and his heart beat a little faster.

“Lead the way, friend.”

Her light words relaxed the last of his tension and he stepped back.

“Gabe?”

He swung his gaze to her, narrowed at the nickname. He’d never let on how his heart gave a small jump at its return.

She held eye contact. “One more time and I’m done.”

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