Page 96 of Between the Lines

Claire

Samesies. *someone* spent the weekend sapping me of energy.

I set my alarm for extra early, then text Penelope from across thehall that I have an early meeting, and ask if she wants anything from Dunkin’ while I’m at it. As I move to shut down my phone, it buzzes in my hand one more time, and I simply can’t resist. I’m glad I don’t. Because theSleep well, sweet Claireis exactly what I needed to wipe the guilt from my conscience and allow me to do just as he asks.

forty

nathan

I thinkI’m getting used to having a crush.

My stomach fills with an unfamiliar sensation.

It’s butterflies.

I used to only get them as nervous wing flaps, flittering that churned up nausea as I awaited my brother’s test results. Now, however, these winged creatures inside my chest are light and free, positively alive with anticipation.

That thought alone makes the fluttering turn anxious.

If we have to sneak around to see one another before work, what are we even doing?

She’d asked me that very question from the quiet of my home, where dangers didn’t lurk around every corner. They exist everywhere within these four walls, and a lump forms in my throat. I wonder if I’ve made a grave mistake.

But it is all erased, replaced again with that joyful, excited hope, when Claire’s tires crunch over the gravel as she turns into the River Valley parking lot.

She parks a few spots down from me—to make our meeting less suspicious?—and exits with two Dunkin’ bags and a drink carrier. Inotice three beverages nestled there and wonder who else she picked up for.

Thoughtful Claire. Always doing for others.

“Good morning.”

I swear, the sun could stay hidden in the east, and her cheery disposition would do just fine.

“Good morning,” I smile. “Let me take that for you.”

We walk in silence, me carrying the beverages less for the chivalry and more so that I keep my hands to myself in the few minutes that it takes for us to cross the parking lot and key into my office. As soon as I set the cardboard carrier on my desk and turn around, we are charged magnets. She is in my arms before I can so much as reach for her myself.

But she doesn’t kiss me. No, Claire simply wraps herself around my waist, rests her head on my chest, and exhales.

As if simply being in my arms has brought her to a center of peace.

My heart stutters. I shudder an exhale over the top of her head as I wrap my arms around her, my broad hands spanning her back as I hold her tightly to me. We stand there for minutes or seconds, or for all I know it could be hours. I don’t linger on the thought that if I could begin every morning like this, I would be at peace.

“Sorry,” she says, still not letting go, her words pressed to my chest. “I just, um?—”

“Never apologize for this. In fact…” I tighten my embrace, effectively squishing us together. “Two more minutes.”

Her little giggle settles a warm, sated smile on my face, and a contentedness in my soul.

We part, and it takes everything in me not to turn the chaste, simple kiss into a heated thing that picks up where we left off last night—up against my door, my tongue gifting the taste of her pussy to her own as a goodbye present. Instead, I only linger for a moment, just to taste, and gesture for one of the two armchairs in front of mydesk. She sits, while I unpack our breakfast sandwiches and she pops the straw into her iced beverage while I revel in the heat of mine.

“It’s winter.” I nod toward her drink, handing her the avocado toast while I reserve the omelet bites for myself. “Iced coffee?

“It could be the middle of a nor’easter, and I’d still have ice in my coffee,” she says with all seriousness. I chuckle and take a seat, spreading my thighs so that my knee presses against hers.

“How was your night with Penelope?”

“Short,” she chuckles, taking a bite of her toast. “I knocked out on the couch and woke up to her coming in late. We’re going to hang out on Wednesday, I think.”

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