Page 40 of Captured Heart

He’s just making it worse, rubbing more salt in my already wounded ego.

His movements are stiff as he stands up and grabs the almost empty popcorn bowl. “I’ll clean this up.”

As he walks into the kitchen, I let out a shaky breath, my heart still pounding. I don’t know what just happened. I shut my eyes and take a second to regroup and recalibrate all the information floating in my mind.

Let me get this straight. On Wednesday, Alex asked Corey to introduce him to me. He was interested on Wednesday. On Thursday, he purposely sought me out, and we spent about an hour talking to each other. He then invitedhimselfto my house to watch a movie. So, he was still interested on Thursday.

And now it’s Sunday, and this man has lostallinterest. This must be a new record for me. Five days! Even the life cycle of a fruit fly is longer than that. Jason was right. I must be the most boring person on the planet. And probably the worst kisser as well, because he told me this directly after I kissed him.

Even if he was on the fence about me, if my kiss ignited some sort of spark, I’m sure he would’ve kissed me back. But no. There’s nothing. His reaction is very similar to someone who just kissed a cold dead fish.

And instead of being upfront and honest about it, he gives me that clichéoh, it’s not you, it’s mebullshit.

God, all men are the same.

I’m still gathering the kernels on the floor when Alex returns to the living room.

“Let me help you with that,” he says from the doorway, actively trying to maintain an ample distance.

“Don’t worry about it. I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” I stand up, and I want to look him in the eye, but I just can’t. I feel stupid and embarrassed, and now it’s so awkward between us. It’s obvious that he wants to get out of here, so I give him the out he’s silently begging for. “I’m sure you probably have somewhere to be. You don’t have to stay to clean up. I made this mess, anyway.”

He jumps on that without hesitation. “Alright. I’ll see you...around.” Non-committal. Non-specific. Yep. Whatever interest he may have had in me has fizzled and died...like that fish. “Uh...thanks for dinner. I had a really great time tonight.”

The former is sincere. The latter is just another obligatory bullshit line to make me feel better. And yet, shockingly, I feel ten times worse.

I fake a smile. “Me, too.”

He nods and then leaves my house without saying another word. My heart sinks into my stomach as I watch the door close behind him. I know it shouldn’t be hurting this much. I’ve only known him for five days, so I’m pretty sure the heavy weight in my chest has more to do with my bruised ego than actual feelings for him.

Either way, I’m just going to brush it aside, pull myself up by my bootstraps, and move along.

Screw John Alexander! If I have to convince a guy to be attracted to me, then he isn’t worth my time, anyway.

7. Aleksandras

It’s been four days since I walked away from her, and I’ve been kicking myself every second since.

I wanted to kiss her. Hell, I wanted a lot more than just a kiss. For one brief, reckless moment, I forgot about Victor, the job, the danger she could be in if I didn’t play my cards right. She kissed me, and I felt more than the plumpness of her lips. I felt a yearning I’ve never felt before, a yearning so primal, so carnal I wanted to rip every stitch of clothing off her body and fuck her right there on the floor.

The urgency to claim every part of her was unreal. I wanted to kiss her until the memory of my lips was imprinted onto hers. I wanted to explore every curve of her body until she was mindlessly moaning my name. I wanted to ravage her, break down the walls of her prim and proper exterior until she was limp and breathless in my arms.

But then she looked at me like I was someone worth trusting.

And I couldn’t do it.

Because I’m not worth her trust.

I knew the potential risk of rejecting her, knew what walking away would cost me, but I still did it. Now, I’ve got nothing. No access to the house, no way to finish this job because she refuses to talk to me.

She’s been avoiding me since that night. Even though there’s always a smile on her face, her responses are clipped and cold. She barely gives me an inch, and every day, it gets a little smaller.

On Monday, she indulged me in a brief chat at the gym before making an excuse to leave. Tuesday, she only got through the pleasantries of idle chit-chat outside Café Almada, then she swiftly ended the conversation. Wednesday, all I got was a greeting as she passed me in the library. It’s fucking Thursday, and I am going crazy.

The clock is ticking. I only have nine days left, and as the pressure builds, it feels like the stakes keep getting higher. Vic’s been calling me, asking for an update, and I’ve got nothing. Not a damn thing.

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