Page 52 of In a Pinch

“Well, I must be pretty good at faking it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I worry all the time what people think of me. My dad isn’t proud, and I am the only one in my family without a 'real' degree. I had to start from the bottom in the restaurant. I am worried what people think at work of me now that I am taking over.” Shit, if I’m already laying this all out there, might as well make it real personal. “And I’m worried what you think. I’m worried you'll share the same thoughts as the rest. And I don’t want you to. I want you to… I don’t know, actually.”

Her arms fall to her sides, dropping the hangers and clothes, as she takes a step closer. In the blink of an eye, she closes the gap between us, and I feel her hand wrap around the back of my neck to pull me down. My lips meet hers and the anxiety around my confession leaves my body. Actually, every thought besides her on me leaves my body. I must’ve not have realized how badly I needed this connection. Or how badly I needed her. To see me, to make my feelings feel validated, and not feel like less than because of them.

My hands wrap around her waist, pulling her tight. A soft moan tumbles from her lips as her urgency picks up. Fuck. I want more. The lack of furniture in here is killing me.

She pulls her face from mine. “Does that clear up what I think of you?” Her voice comes out a little breathless.

“Crystal.” My head rests against hers as I catch my breath.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me.” I don’t get a chance to ask her what I reminded her of because her phone rings and breaks the trance.

She walks and grabs her phone off the kitchen counter, leaning her hip against it. I continue to hang clothes in an effort to not stare and make it weird.

“Great news: the mattress people are coming early. If we hustle, we can get the majority of this done and get to Target before they come in two hours.”

Shouldn’t be hard, since she has, like, one box for the kitchen and thirty boxes of clothes. Now I understand why I’ve never seen her wear the same thing twice.

“Do you think all these are going to fit into the clothes closet?”

“I’ll put the two boxes labeled dresser in a dresser. After we, you know, buy the dresser.” She motions over to the spot on the wall where she wants the dresser to go, before picking up the boxes and carrying them there.

“How much shit are you buying from Target?”

“I’m hoping it’ll be a one-stop shop: some kitchen stuff, a dresser, and a futon.”

“Okay, not to throw off your groove, but where do you plan on putting those?”

She looks at me like it was the dumbest question I’ve ever asked. “In the Bronco, duh?”

Well, all right then.

“Okay. We can swing by and pick up my tools on the way to Target then.” There’s a high chance I’m going to be roof surfing on the way back from the store. I keep those concerns to myself, not wanting to stress Addie out anymore. Although, she might not even be stressed. You can’t tell by talking to her. She thinks she doesn’t have her shit together, but how she handles life is admirable.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Addie

Okay, so, I might have underestimated how much room this would take. Sam plops down in the passenger seat, turns his head, and levels me with a glare. I sheepishly smile.

“That was nice of you to leave Target with two items to sell.” His hand finds my leg, and between our kiss earlier and his proximity to my very neglected lady bits, my body sets aflame. I squeeze my legs together, trying to relieve some of the pent-up desire.

“Did you see my apartment? I had, like, three things.” It comes out a little breathless and I pray he doesn’t figure it out. On the other hand, what’s the worst thing that can happen if he does?

“And now, you have all the things. Congratulations.” His hand does a little squeeze, and I have to fight to keep the squeal ofdelight inside. I focus my attention back on the road, since my last dollar is sitting in the car with us.

The backseat is stuffed to the brim with unassembled small furniture, kitchenware, and decor for the bathroom. I’ve got everything on my list, which is a good thing because, between first and last month’s rent and today’s haul, I’ve got, like, four dollars to my name. Which I will probably spend on a coffee Monday morning. You know, priorities.

The lack of funds is edging me to have an anxiety attack. But I’m convincing myself it's fine because I needed these things and not because I blacked out in Target and threw the budget to the wind. Ugh. Seriously, what kind of magic do they put in Target’s air that makes me think I’ve got bottomless funds?

“We probably should have used the cavalry for hauling shit inside your apartment instead of moving.” He isn’t wrong. The only thing moving from Isla’s was my closet. Unfortunately, we will definitely not be making it in one trip. Or seven, if we are being realistic.

---