Page 49 of Texting My Valentine

“But it’s a lot, isn’t it? To just drop on a person?”

“No,” he growls, but it sounds like he’s lying.

I avert my gaze. “Anyway, that’s why I don’t think I can do it. Not tonight. Maybe we could just go to sleep?”

“Sure, Tori… where are you going?” he asks when I stand up.

“To the spare room?”

“No. Come here. I can hold you without turning into an animal.”

I climb into his embrace, grateful for the warmth of his arms. But I can’t shake the feeling that he feels somehow more distant now. My mind starts spinning, thoughts clashing into dangerous territory. This is what I wanted, for the closeness to stop, but now I’m not so sure.

Mom’s mind never spins like this. She lies in a man’s arms after he’s spun her a tale and never questions it.

But I question. A lot. Too much?

For whatever reason, Alex was determined to get me to bed. Maybe he likes curvy girls. Maybe it’s the age gap. Whatever. He marks me as a prize he wants to claim, even going so far as to impress me with that thoughtful gift and by standing up to Damien. Then, finally, he thinks he’s going to get what he wants.

Only for me to ruin it with the whole virginity thing.

I imagine him thinking,All this work, and she’s not even going to be a good lay. I even invented that sob story about my brother’s kid.

I hate these thoughts. What if they’re just evidence of my scarred psyche?

The fact that I’m lying here, thinking this, obsessing about it, is a problem. It means I care about this Valentine’s grump more than I should. And heisin a grumpy mode again. The V-word had him looking downright freaking dark.

I wish my mind weren’t always filled with taunting hate from Mom, her cries, her agony, her twisted pain slithering into my thoughts and making a sick home there. The connection between Damien and her ex only makes it worse. It’s like the universe is taunting me.

I’m surprised when Alex manages to fall asleep. I roll over and watch him.

His expression is peaceful, different from how he looked when I told him I was a virgin. Then, he looked ready to get as far away from me as possible.

I try to convince myself I don’t care about this man. Do you know what about him makes me want to spend more time together? It was the conversation on the beach about my poetry. He looked so accepting, so interested.

It was the same with my body. He sensed my discomfort, kissed my stomach, and even made me laugh. It’s the kindness hiding behind his gruff exterior. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that Rowan fired a Cupid’s arrow at us.

It’s early days, so I shouldn’t let my thoughts rush ahead, but Lily is in my head, whispering unhelpful, crazy thoughts.When destiny strikes, you have to follow your heart.

I lean up on one elbow, enjoying the peaceful look on his face. He’s been pretty open about wanting to find something real. But what if it’s all a lie?

Everything I’m thinking about—his acceptance, his kindness, our chemistry—vanished when I told him I was a virgin. Now, maybe he just wants to pass out so he can wake up and get this over with.

But he put his life at risk to save me. He stared down the barrel of a gun. Why would he go that far? Is he in cahoots with Damien?

Jeez, Tori.Cahoots?I need to slow down. If it looks like, smells like, tastes like, and freaking hurts like paranoia, then it’s probably just paranoia.

His phone lights up from the bedside table. He’s got a text from somebody named Catelina.

My blood turns cold when I read the message.

Catelina:‘Elliot’ is asleep, and I am heading down for the night. Phone is on if you need me.

I stare at the text on the notification screen until it automatically clicks off. Why the heck would ‘Elliot’ be in quotation marks? Who is Catelina? I imagine him with some beautiful woman, tall, thin, and gorgeous in the most traditional sense, both of them laughing about this made-up nephew and sob story.

I should slow down and try to think clearly.

Instead, I quietly climb from the bed and tiptoe across the room. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to go home, but it’s better than lying here like the punchline to a joke.

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