Page 43 of Be My Reason

On the drive home, he just stares at his wrist.Baseball bat, what did that mean? He broke his wrist on a baseball bat and now he has a bionic arm? I’m itching to ask him about it, but like everything else in his past, he is very tight-lipped.

He told me about the tattoo.Maybe someday he will tell me about this. I eye the scar on my own right hand. Maybe someday I’ll tell him about mine as well.

“Maybe we should stick with movies,” he jokes, as we make our way up the stairs to the apartment.

“Okay, you pick tonight.”

He smiles that gorgeous smile at me. Then he grabs my hand and leads me over to the couch. I am aware that he is crossing the line but I don’t care. His hand feels like heaven on my skin. He sits me down and releases me and instantly I feel cold. I miss his hand. The hand that held mine for mere seconds. I want it back.

He puts in the movie and sits next to me on the couch.Closer than normal, but not too close. We fall into our routine of laughing and yelling at the characters. I’ve never had so much fun staying at home as I have with him these past weeks.

My hair is tickling my neck and I realize that he is playing with a lock ofit behind my ear. He is twirling it, over and over. I’m not even sure if he is aware that he’s doing it, but suddenly it’sallI’m aware of. I close my eyes and steady my breathing and my head falls back against the couch. He is putting me into a trance with the rhythmic twisting of my hair. Then I feel his hand softly stroke my check. And I could swear I hear him inhale deeply through his nose.Is he smelling me?

Oh, God, he thinks I’m asleep. My heart races and I try to control my breathing. I don’t want him to know I’m awake. Why is he doing this? He should stop. But I don’t think I want him to stop. I think I want him to keep going. My goddess within and my conscience are busy arguing about what I want when he lifts me off the couch.

Effortlessly, he carries me. I can feel his heart beating through his shirt.I can smell his minty breath as it rolls over my face. I think that this must be killing his hand but he doesn’t make a sound. I try, but fail, to control my own heartbeat so that he can’t see how this is affecting me.

Where is he taking me?

Please don’t take me to your room.

Yes, do.

No, don’t.

He places me on a bed and I can tell by the smell that it’s not his bed.I don’t dare open my eyes yet. I can feel him in the room—staring at me. What is he doing? I should open my eyes. I should say something. I feel a blanket coming up over me. Then I feel his hot breath on my face. He is going to kiss me.

Yes, please, kiss me.

I know I shouldn’t, but if he kissed me right here, right now, I don’t think I could resist. I know what he tastes like, I remember his kisses. I know I shouldn’t want him. I know that I can’t have him. But in this moment, I need him. I need him to kiss me.

“Goodnight, Brooklyn,” he whispers,his hot breath floating across my face. Then his soft, firm lips touch my cheek for a lingering, yet chaste kiss. He lets out a deep sigh and I hear him walk out of the room and gently close the door.

I open my eyes and a tear rolls down my face.I cry because in this moment, I realize that I want Nate Riley. I want him so badly that my skin is humming everywhere he has touched me. I reach up and touch the place on my cheek where his lips fell moments ago. I want him to the very core of my soul.

And that is exactly why I can’t have him.

ChapterSixteen

I love lazy Saturday mornings. When I was little, I used to crawl in bed with my parents and watch cartoons.Now that I’m older, I stay in my sleeping shorts and tank top and snuggle on the couch, watching reruns of stupid reality shows. The programs may have changed, but the feelings are still the same.

Nine o’clock rolls around and I figure I’d better get my run out of the way before I waste away the day, so I get up and throw on my running clothes. I pass by Nate’s door on my way down the hall. He is on the phone but he looks up at me and gives me a smile and a wave.

On my way out the bakerydoor, I cut the corner too close and my shirt snags on the door hinge. I look at it. Darn, it tore a hole in one of my best running tops. Silently cursing my way back to the apartment, I head back in and hear two voices.

I walk towards Nate’s room and realizeit is Graham’s voice that I hear and that Nate has him on speaker. I’m about to turn and go get a new shirt when I hear my name.

Huh?

I’m not a nosey person by nature. Live and let live and all that. But when the guy who penetrates my dreams is talking about me with his best friend, well, that clearly has dilemma written all over it. Do I listen? I know I shouldn’t. He doesn’t know I’m back in the apartment. He is having a private conversation.

Nothing good can come from this.I need to change my shirt and sneak out. So why are my feet firmly planted outside his door? I’m pressed against the wall trying not to breathe. I can’t get my legs to move.

I am going to hell.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, man. I made her this promise. A promise not to ask her out, not to touch her. Do you know how hard that is? It’s like trying not to breathe. She is so goddamn beautiful and she doesn’t even know it. She has no fucking idea.”

“Nate, give it time.You said she seems to be coming around, acting like you are friends and having a good time with you. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes she wants you.”

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