Page 15 of Not Catching Love

Those wide, kind eyes search mine, and I swear I can smell the heady scent of his sweat.

I forget how to form a sentence. Every other time I see Derek, I’m too far gone to appreciate it, and once he calms me down, I’m too embarrassed and angry with myself to stick around for long. Here, now, where I’m having a good night and he’s not reminding me that my brain is a shithead liar who lies, I have no idea what to say to him.

I barely remember to close my mouth.

“Umm … hi.”

The corner of his lips twitches. He has the sweetest eyes of anyone I’ve ever seen. “Hey.”

“You’re here.”

“And so are you.”

“I am.” I’ve never seen Derek out of his uniform that he wears at the pharmacy, but I’m seeing a lot of him now. He’s got a chunky belly and a solid chest sprinkled with dark hair. And big arms. He’s not overly big like Seven, but he’s a nice big. A cuddly big. I’m dying to know what his hugs are like. “Hi.”

Derek cracks up. “We’ve covered that.” He glances at Seven and Madden. “You here with, umm, anyone else?”

“Just Molly.” No date. Not me.

“Ah …” The eye contact is heart-stopping. “Well, I might go?—”

“Want to grab a drink?” The words spill from me before I can stop them.

Derek’s mouth opens. Closes. “With you?”

I nod. And nod. And nod. Like I’ve forgotten how to stop.

“Okay, but if we grab a drink together, I’m going to need you to say actual words.” His breathtaking smile comes. “You know that’s how a conversation works, right?”

“Give him a second and you won’t shut him up,” Seven butts in.

Derek turns to him. “I’d prefer that over him being mute. If it’s okay with you?”

I throw Seven a look, begging him to help me out here.

“Fine …” But Seven doesn’t look happy about it. No doubt he thinks I’ll get into more trouble, but with Derek’s attention on me and him not bringing up the nasty “T” word—therapy—my happy, little kitten is back.

“Let’s go.”

I follow Derek, more careful of the people dancing than before as we make our way to the bar. Now that I’ve calmed down, I genuinely feel bad about all the pushing and almost hurting that guy, and I hate that I can’t control myself sometimes. I hate that something in me snaps. I hate that the little gremlin always, always wins, but it’s the thing that defended me when no one else would, and slipping back into that is easier than fighting all the time.

I’m struggling to believe Derek’s here. Like, I could reach out and touch him. Smell him. Listen to him talk and drown in his steady gaze.

“What are you drinking?” he asks.

“Whatever you are.”

“Sorry to say that I’m on water tonight.”

“Oh.” Does that mean he’s here with someone? “Are you designated driver?”

“Nah, I …” He shakes off whatever he was going to say. “Don’t always need to drink, you know?”

“I’ll have water too, then.”

“If that’s what you want.”

I can handle my alcohol, but there’s no way I’m going to risk getting drunk in front of him. Not Derek. He’s a real adult. Put together, stable, handsome, with a grown-up career and no demons in his closet.

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