Page 16 of Undercover
That drew out a genuine chuckle, and the atmosphere between us lightened enough that when we turned to walk down Church Street, my shoulder brushing his arm, the heaviness in my chest eased up.
We’d made it three blocks before I realized he’d never answered my question.
I leaned in a tiny bit, risking bumping my shoulder against him on purpose, trying for companionable and maybe a little flirtatious. The mood needed lightening. And anyway, I wanted to touch him.
“Why did you ask me out?”
He started a little, as if he’d been far away and lost in thought. We kept walking, the breeze off the lake brushing my hair out of my face and making the city feel fresh and clean, despite the taint in the air left over from the lake’s recent, now-fading cyanobacteria bloom. Chilly, though, and I wished my blazer had pockets, since my fuck-me jeans weren’t going to let me fit my hands in theirs.
At long last, Alec said, “I’m sorry about coming on so strong yesterday.”
Okay, not an answer, but at least he’d decided to talk, period.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t,” he said emphatically. “Look, I’m new here. And you kind of took me off guard, and made me think—” He broke off with a gusty sigh. “First impressions are a bitch. You bought me books about drug dealers. You look like kind of a scene kid, you know? And I’m new here. The whole random act of kindness thing with the books threw me. I wanted to find out what you wanted. And I did want to meet you, too. It was—not my finest moment. So I’m sorry.”
I mulled that over for a second. A little jumbled, okay, and maybe not super logical. I could dissect his explanation later, at home over another glass of wine. Dissect it until I ended up calling one of my less toxic friends to chew it over obsessively, probably, but details. After all, I’d promised myself some overanalysis. Why not lean into it?
Bottom line, he’d fucked up and wanted to make it up to me. My chest had that too-tight feeling again. “So you asked me out because you were sorry?”
“Yeah, but I also wanted the chance to make a second impression. Although I kind of fucked that up too, didn’t I?”
He sounded genuinely sorry as he said that, like he actually regretted not impressing me. Like he’d hoped to do better.
God, everyone had their insecurities, didn’t they? Even ridiculously tall, hot, muscular guys with cool leather jackets.
In high school, my mom had always told me that even the cool kids were just as worried about what everyone thought of them as I was, probably even more—they simply hid it better. Maybe she’d had a point. Then again, moms nearly always had a point.
“I didn’t throw my drink on you.” I glanced up, and I found him looking down at me, almost smiling. Not quite. But not scowling. Go me. “But the night’s still young.” I waggled my eyebrows, and the smile crept up to reach his eyes, which gleamed in the glow of the streetlight we’d walked under.
“I’m not coming home with you, even if you invite me,” he said, but he was still smiling a little. “You deserve better.”
My feet stopped moving, and I stood and stared up at him.
“What did you just say?”
He stopped too, a puzzled frown driving out the smile. “That you deserve better?” My head spun a little, the streetlight’s off-white glare dissolving into streamers. “You know, better than some guy who came on to you in a park and then took you on a terrible date trying to pressure you into putting out?”
Alec had his hands in his jacket pockets, the bastard. My hands still felt like lumps at the ends of my arms, like I needed somewhere to put them, like my whole body had shifted subtly out of place.
I didn’t recognize this feeling—and then, at last, it hit me. Attraction. Real, honest attraction, and not just the one-night-stand kind. Maybe Alec hadn’t made the greatest first impression, at least beyond making me want to roll over and beg. But he’d paid for our drinks, and tipped generously, and held the door, and—if I wasn’t going to value myself, he apparently meant to do it for me. I must’ve misunderstood him earlier. He seemed to be as uncomfortable with a real date as I was, and he’d probably just fallen prey to the same kind of verbal fuck-up I’d practically trademarked.
“Walk me the rest of the way home, then.” I found myself smiling sunnily up at him, and he blinked, looking a little dazed. Maybe the streetlight was too glary for him, too. “And then tomorrow you can call me. For a do-over, okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little husky. He cleared his throat. “I’d like that.”
As we started walking again, I slipped one hand through his arm, not feeling awkward about it at all. We didn’t talk the rest of the way home, and when we got to my building he stepped away the second I took my hand off his elbow. But I was still smiling as I headed upstairs, his parting “I’ll call you tomorrow” echoing in my ears.
Usually I assumed a guy didn’t mean it when he said that to me, and most of the time I hoped he didn’t, anyway.
This time felt different.
6
Alec
The way Gabe had smiled at me the night before, that lovely, sweet smile he’d offered when he’d given me another chance, kept coming back to me all morning. The memory left me a little aroused, yeah, but a lot…something else. Something harder to define, and a lot harder to handle, since my erection at least had an easy solution.
