Page 53 of The Consequence of Loving Me

I dry my palms on the front of my pants, rubbing them over my thighs. Her eyes follow my movements. “Yes, I want to take you somewhere.” I scratch at my head, suddenly anxious.

“You want to take me somewhere?”

“I want to take you somewhere.” My foot takes the smallest step toward her. We’re still separated by a large section of the basement, but it’s still progress considering she hasn’t run away yet.

“I can’t, Maverick.” The toe of her boot scrapes at the worn carpet below it. She stares at it for a few moments before she looks at me, a determined look on her face.

I start with, “Look, about the other night…”

I want to tell her it was perfect, that I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.

I want to confess to her every thought that has come to my mind since I first met her, but I’m not ready for her to shoot me down. I need to take this slow, because at this point, I’ll take her in any way I can have her—even if it’s in small and fractured increments.

“I don’t want to talk about the other night. It was a mistake,” she says.

Damn.

Well, that felt like a punch to the gut. A blow I wasn’t expecting.

It didn’t hurt my ego, though; it hurt my heart.

But I’ve been reminding myself that I’ve always known of her aversion to relationships. The entire time I’ve known her. It’s my fault for expecting anything more from her.

So, I won’t.

I won’t hope for anything more.

I’ll take what she will give me and I will fucking feast on it.

And right now, I’m hoping she’ll just humor me.

“Then let’s not talk about it,” I say.

I can tell my words shock her by the way she purses her lips. The tiniest line forms on her forehead as she thinks my answer through.

Veronica timidly takes a few steps into the basement living area. A few steps closer to me. “You promise we won’t talk about it?” She keeps walking until the toes of her boots are only a few inches away from my sneakers.

I can feel my heart start to race inside my chest. I try not to look too deeply into the fact that Selma never made my heart race like this. But I can’t get my hopes up here. Veronica has made it clear where she stands. I have to respect that, even if she’s making me feel things I haven’t felt before.

“I promise,” I respond, reaching my arm between us and holding out a pinky.

She stares at it for a moment. A long moment where I stand in front of her, my pinky outstretched, both of us staring at it between our bodies.

Veronica lifts her hand, gently wrapping her pinky around mine. Just as soon as she does it, she goes to remove it before I stop her.

“Wait, you have to bite it,” I remind her.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Her head tilts up, curiosity on her face.

Our pinkies are still wound around the other’s.

“You have to bite your thumb to make it legit. Watch.” I bend down, opening my mouth and biting softly down on my thumb. I look at her, waiting for her to do the same.

“I think you’re making this up,” Veronica says before using her free hand to hold her hair against her shoulder.

She stretches up on her toes and wraps that soft mouth around her thumb. I stare at the way her red lipstick leaves lip prints in a ring around the tip of her finger.

Both our hands fall to our sides as we end the promise.

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