Page 135 of A Lucky Shot

“What did you miss about me, Nick?”

The smile faded another watt. “You. The time we spend together. We don’t do enough of that.” He stared down at his thumb brushing hers. For all the places his hands had been on her body, he’d almost never touched her in public before. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to see where things would go between us?”

A quiet huff escaped her lips. Cass withdrew her hands and tucked them under her arms. “Only after every time you didn’t call me back after we’d hooked up,” she said, and this time, he had the decency to look guilty. “Why now?”

“When I saw those photos last night of you out with another man, I realized I’d be a goddamn fool to let someone else be where I should be.”

“Never once have you ever made me feel like you wanted to be with me.”

“I-I’m sorry if you feel that way.”

“But not for acting in a way that made me feel that way? That’s not an apology.”

A hint of remorse flickered in his eyes. Finally. She’d spent hours staring into those eyes. Rich, espresso brown, with lashes so thick and curly she’d once been tempted to ask if he curled them. She’d bet anything he didn’t know the colour of her eyes.

“But we keep coming back together. We have something here,” he tried again. “Don’t you think we should give it a shot?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he said, sitting up straighter. “Does that?—”

“What’s my best friend’s name?”

Nick hoisted up his smile a fraction. “What?”

“I’ve been friends with her since elementary school,” Cass prompted. “I talk about her all the time. What’s her name?”

“Um …”

“What am I allergic to?”

He pressed his lips together.

“What kind of movies do I like?”

“Cass …”

“Your best friend is Alex. Was Alex, before whatever went down,” she said. “You don’t have any allergies, but I know you’re lactose intolerant, even though you refuse to admit it. I don’t know what kind of movies you like, because you never asked me to see any with you. I love movies.”

“I didn’t?—”

“No. You didn’t.”

He knew how to make her come. He knew the sounds she made when he put his mouth on her. He knew she answered his texts, even after a year of silence.

And what did she know?

That none of that was good enough anymore.

“You never took the time to get to know me. You only ever texted me when you wanted to get laid.”

“That’s not …” True, she could see on the tip of his tongue, but he said, “If that’s what you think, I’m sorry?—”

“That’s still not an apology.”

“Then let me fix that.”

“I think that time has passed.”

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