Page 52 of Under Locke & Key
Bryce’s phone buzzes multiple times and he takes the call, and judging by his face, it’s not good. Disentangling himself from the couch, he paces, stalking down the little hallway making unhappy noises and when he hangs up all the joy from today seems to have been sucked right out of him.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“The repairs have really cut into my budget and I’m worried with the way things are going and how quickly the money is disappearing that we won’t make it to our original opening date. December seemed so perfect but what if I don’t have enough capital to get us there?” Bryce plops down on the couch beside me again and I thread my fingers between his, giving them a squeeze.
“So we scrap one or two room ideas for now—maybe the Dulaney one—and tighten the rest up to focus on our strongest ones. Maybe we can stretch the money that way—scale it down a little? I’m here. I’ll help however I can,” I say.
Even if it means I won’t be getting the months of pay I’d been planning on. I can worry about my options after, right now the task ahead is daunting and getting ever closer.
“You’re amazing. I hate to say so but I’m grateful your old job didn’t work out. I’m not sure I would have made it this far without you.”
My stomach does a little flip at the words and I don’t know what to say because I don’t want to admit that I feel similarly grateful that Keith was a Grade-A asshole because getting to know Bryce has been the perfect balm to that hurt.
We pretend to watch more TV, until it becomes unnecessary becauseourshow of being unaffected fails when Bryce kisses me. His mouth slants over mine and his hand moves to cradle the back of my neck—fingers splaying into my hair.
It’s like the park all over again, heat sweeping up in me—and him—to the point that somehow I’m beneath him on the couch and he’s hovering over me as he nips down my neck. We’re both breathless and being surrounded by him feels overwhelming in the best way.
Bryce whispers my name into the crook of my neck, one of his hands on my waist and the other holding him up so he doesn’t crush me.
We should stop. I know we should. There’s still too much in the air and he’s dealing with a stressful situation. I don’t want to dive into this without consideration even though it feels like my brain has melted and I’m relegated to nothing but sensation.
It continues for a few more fraught seconds before I gather myself enough to speak.
“We should stop. It’s getting late.” It’s little more than a whisper and I hardly recognize my voice given how husky it sounds. It’s the most cliche excuse but I can’t come up with better when he’s left me little more than a puddle.
Bryce pulls away from me, his pupils overwhelming those warm honey flecks in his eyes and it’s reassuring to know he’s as affected as I am. Our chests heave with breath and every time they do I feel his sternum press against my breasts.
“You’re right.” Bryce shuts his eyes, taking a deep inhale through his nose to come down. “You’re right.”
I don’t know if he’s repeating it to acknowledge what I’ve said or if it’s to convince himself of the words. Still, he pulls himself off of me and I feel strangely bereft. Sitting up, I tug on my clothes to right them and fluff my hair out of my face.
His hair is mussed from my hands raking through it and I want to giggle at the sight. I can only imagine what his parents will think when he arrives home—if he happens to cross paths with them.
“I’ll see you soon at the theater?” Bryce asks, heading over to and lingering in the archway of the living room.
“I’ll see you soon. Thanks for the date,” I say and am pleased to note the slight flush of his neck.
“Any time. Lock the door behind me.”
I nod, staying right where I’m at because I know if I get close to him now, if I follow him to the door, there will be more kissing and it’ll be impossible to pull away next time.
And I know I desperately want there to be a next time.
She hasa smudge across the bridge of her nose and it takes everything in me not to swipe it away with my thumb. The past weeks have been torture. The ones since Pride and our date even more so. June melts into July as we buckle down to finish this project and the only stress relief I find is with my mouth against hers, pushing my mind to a blissful blank.
All the conversations in the car, the way her face lights up when she talks about her ideas, leave a heavy feeling in my stomach that’s getting harder and harder to ignore. Even with the additional week apart for my hand to heal and the bathroom fiasco. Besides, I have no idea if she’s even planning to stick around. Maybe sex will complicate things too much.
Maybe you should just let yourself have something for once. Be selfish. Take what you need and stop second guessing. Stop sitting with your tail between your legs, begging to be seen and hoping she will take the initiative so you don’t have to admit that you want something.
It’s ridiculous that I thought she was anything like Stephanie in the beginning. Beyond the occasional professional smooth appearance, which has gotten less and less frequent since our work got more physical, the two couldn’t be more different. Where Stephanie cared about appearance for appearance sake, Rachel just wants to make her parents proud. Stephanie only seemed to want me around as a symbol but Rachel treats me like a person.
I never realized how big that difference felt until she came into my life. I’m dangerously close to something there’s no coming back from and the last thing I want to do is ruin the business relationship, and friendship, we’re building because I’m in too deep. Maybe this is casual for her. There’s too much at stake. If we don’t launch within the next two months, I will have sunk all this money into the business with nothing to show for it.
“You okay? You seem to be thinkingreallyhard about something over there,” Rachel says it with a lightness I don’t feel but the smile on her face is enough to coax one onto mine.
“Just worried about the launch.”
“We’ll pull it off. Even if it means all-nighters and recruiting whoever we can to help. My stubbornness won’t allow for anything but success. This is well thought out and there’s interest. Believe in yourself, Bryce. I do.”
