Page 37 of Boyfriend of the Hour
By the time I was done, Hunt’s expression had barely shifted, though his brown eyes swirled with something like surprise.
“I—” He swallowed. “I wasn’t trying to tell you that at all.”
“Oh,really?” I snarked back.
He shook his head. “No. I assumed the bra was yours, so I brought it back when I found it. And…” He swallowed again, then pointed at the note. “The rest is in there.”
I stared at the white piece of paper. I didn’t want to pick it up. I didn’t want any of this.
“I’m not always very good at saying what I mean,” he continued. “Or at least what I…feel. It’s an apology. For what happened in my office. And, um, the other day too, I suppose. I didn’t understand that I’d offended you until I saw you exiting my building, and then I didn’t know how to reach you otherwise, so I came here. That’s, um, all.”
“Hey, can we get a row of vodka shots, lady?”
“In a minute,” I snapped. Then I picked up the note and took my sweet damn time reading it.
JONI,
PLEASE FORGIVE MY RUDE BEHAVIOR. IF I GAVE YOU ANY REASON TO THINK I WAS JUDGING YOUR PROFESSIONAL CHOICES, I APOLOGIZE. I RESPECT WHATEVER CHOICES YOU MAKE FOR YOUR BODY, YOUR JOB, OR ANY OTHER PARTS OF YOURLIFE. MY ONLY CONCERNS ORIGINATE OUT OF FRIENDSHIP AND RESPECT.
SINCERELY,
NATHAN
His handwriting was small and neat—the opposite of what I would have expected from a doctor. He wrote with a mild cursive that I had to go over more times than I would have admitted to anyone to understand completely, so it took even longer than usual for me to get through it. But when I was finished, I didn’t throw it in the trash. Instead, I folded it into a very small square and slid it into my shorts at my hip.
Hunt—no,Nathan—waited while I poured the vodka shots and made a few other drinks before I was finally able to return to him. When I did, he was staring at the note, the square visible through the tight silver fabric.
“You have terrible handwriting,” I told him. When he held out his card to pay for his still-full drink, I shook my head. “It’s on me.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m the one apologizing.”
“So you did,” I said. “And I appreciate it.”
Nathan frowned. “That drink is very expensive. I don’t want it coming out of your pay.”
I didn’t want that either, but somehow, tonight, it didn’t feel right.
I thought about the note again. It contained words I’d so rarely heard from anyone. Respect. Friendship. Forgiveness.
And then I thought about the other word he said to me too.
“It’s fine, really,” I said. “I accept your apology. And, well, it’s kind of hard to be mad at someone who tells you that you’re perfect.”
The noise seemed to die down as we stared at each other again. Even in the dark light, Nathan’s eyes gleamed like silk. Full of promise. And something else I couldn’t quite name that made me quiver like a plucked violin string.
“Well, I am sorry,” he told me. “Please believe me. I was only surprised by your request.” Tentatively, he took a sip of scotch, though his eyes maintained their focus on me.
“You’re very intense,” I said bluntly. “Do you know that?”
Nathan set down his drink. “I—yes. Yes, I’m aware.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that might put other people off?”
He seemed to think about that for a moment. “It does. I try to be attuned and adjust my behavior when necessary. But trying to be something I’m not capable of feels…uncomfortable. Painful, even. I don’t do it unless I absolutely have to.”
I swallowed. Yeah, I knew how that felt.
“So, you don’t think less of me because I might be taking my clothes off for money in the near future?” I asked.
