Page 27 of Hooked On Them

Istared at my phone, feeling my pulse spike with the notification of Nora’s text. Six weeks of sending messages into the void, and suddenly she’d responded. Not just responded but actually wanted to see me.

I scrolled back through our one-sided conversation, cringing at some of my texts.

Me: In case you’re wondering, yes, I’m still dangerously handsome and emotionally available.

Me: Hey Coach, I stretched today. Thought you’d want photographic proof. *Image: a very unnecessary shirtless selfie*

Me: Fun fact: My camera lens still fogs up when I think about that dress you wore.

Me: I’ve been good. Extremely good. Disgustingly well-behaved. Honestly, it’s getting weird.

Me: I’m hungry. Let’s go to Paris for dinner tonight. Pick you up at three?

Me: Just passed a woman who kind of looked like you. I almost proposed.

Me: Still waiting on that feedback from my stick-handling performance from that night. Felt like I nailed it, but I’m open to notes.

Me: You ghosting me or playing hard to get? Because either way, it’s working.

Me: Tell your silence it’s rude. And also kind of hot.

Me: If ignoring me is your version of foreplay… damn, I’m into it.

Me: You haven’t blocked me yet or told me to stop…

I ran a hand through my hair. My boundaries had completely gone out the window with this woman. Her silence should have been a big enough sign to give up, but something told me not to.

And now she was coming over.

The afternoon sun filtered through my loft, casting long shadows across the polished concrete floors. It was the perfect lighting for a session, and I wondered if Nora would let me photograph her.

Pull yourself together, Campbell.I straightened a stack of photography books on my coffee table for the third time.

The truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Something about Nora had burrowed under my skin and set up permanent residence. It wasn’t just the sex, though holy hell, that had been mind-blowing. It was her sharp wit, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, and her fierce intelligence.

I checked my phone, and according to the car service tracker, it would be dropping her off in approximately seven minutes, assuming normal traffic patterns. Not stalker-ish at all to watch the car move; just wanted to be prepared for her arrival.

My palms were sweating. When was the last time a woman had made me nervous? Probably never.

I stood and paced in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows as I watched boats drift along the river. But for once, I couldn’t focus on the artistry of it. My reflection kept catching my eye, and I straightened my shirt as if Nora would care. This woman had me acting like an anxious teenager before prom.

My phone pinged with an alert that the car was approaching, and I practically skipped to the stairs that led down into my main art and photography space.

When I first bought my warehouse several years ago, I never imagined I’d love it so much. Downstairs was my office, photography studio, and art space. Upstairs was my open-concept loft with unobstructed views of the river and city. Could I have afforded a penthouse in a high-rise? Absolutely, but that was boring.

I unlocked the metal door and pulled it open to find Nora looking like she’d been through an emotional hurricane. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, her face slightly pale, and her eyes had a wild, unfocused quality that immediately set off alarm bells.

“Hey, you okay?” I wanted to pull her into a hug but also didn’t want to scare her away.

“Great.” She gave me the fakest smile known to man and moved past me as I stepped aside. “I didn’t think you’d been serious when you said you lived in a converted warehouse. It’s very… artsy.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly nervous for some unknown reason. Women didn’t make me so uncertain, but this one did, and that was both exhilarating and scary as fuck. “Wait until you see my living space upstairs.”

Taking a chance, I grabbed her hand and led her upstairs.

She glanced around my space with wide eyes. “Wow. This is very you but also unexpected.”

I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing and followed her gaze as she took in the exposed brick walls covered in my photography, the high industrial ceilings, and the expensive but comfortable furniture.

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