Page 83 of The Close-Up
We take dual long sips while looking at each other, the smiles on our mouths lingering even as we swallow. The bitter, earthy taste lingers with each subsequent pull I take.
Simon twists his neck to face me. “More?”
I nod, and he tops me off.
“You know, for someone who claims not to drink much, you really seem to be enjoying that pretentious wine.”
I shrug with the glass to my lips. When I finish swallowing, I look at him. “It must be the charm of Napa rubbing off on me.”
When I glance back at him, his eyes are kind. And serious. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
“It’s okay, Simon. It’s not your fault Amy vomited on me. And it’s not like she could help it. She was sick.”
“Yeah, but I should have paid attention to her more.”
“I know you’re her big brother, but you can’t control her. If she wants to drink, she’s gonna drink.”
“True.” He clears his throat. “I don’t think it’s good if you stay with Amy. You might get sick too.”
“Right.” I sigh, the nerves in my stomach kicking up at what that means: I’ll be rooming with Simon.
“I, um, can run to the front desk and see if they have a spare room,” I say quickly.
He shakes his head. There’s something shy behind the warmth of his eyes. The longer I stare at him, the more it makes the inside of my chest flutter.
“It’s fine that you stay with me. We’ve stayed together before, at the Airbnb in Lake Tahoe. We can share a hotel room for one night.” He looks over at the couch. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
I start to protest, but he shakes his head.
“It’s only fair. My sister was the one who threw up on you. It’s the least I can offer.”
I chuckle. “Okay. Thanks.”
He stares at his lap while slowly swirling the wine in his glass. “Unless you’re...uncomfortable staying with me.”
I stop mid-sip, pulling the glass from my lips. “Why would I be uncomfortable?”
He bites his lip, his cheeks rosy. “It’s just, the other night when we kissed...” He coughs. “The next day when you texted me and said that you wanted to forget it and keep things between us firmly in the friends and coworkers camp, I just figured you’d want to maintain that space between us. It feels like sharing a hotel room would maybe cross the line for you.”
“Simon. It’s fine. I’m not uncomfortable. Not even a little bit.”
“You’re not?” He speaks with the slightest growl in his tone. I shake my head.
The moisture in my mouth evaporates. Maybe it’s the way his jaw tenses or the way his eyes pierce into me like they’re looking right through me. It makes me want to curl into him and run my hands all over his skin.
“Because I couldn’t handle it knowing that I made you uncomfortable.” His brows knit in concern.
For a few seconds, I contemplate the right way to word this. If I tell him the truth—how that kiss between us ignited a fire inside of me, how I wanted to drag him home with me and do a million filthy things to him, that I bit my tongue to keep from howling in disappointment when Harper’s call interrupted us—it could end in disaster. If he didn’t feel the same way, and I admit that to him now, it could make this evening of sharing a hotel room a whole new level of uncomfortable.
But then I fixate on his gaze. This close up, I see that something rests behind those golden eyes of his; something hungry and hopeful. So I take a breath, squeeze his forearm once more, and spill everything.
“Truthfully? I’ve never been more disappointed than when I had to break that kiss with you the other night,” I say, my voice low and soft. “In that moment, I didn’t give a shit about work or our boundaries as friends. And to be honest, a part of me still doesn’t care. I’m still so attracted to you, Simon.”
For a second, he says nothing. He just stares, that hungry expression on his face remaining. But then the corner of his mouth twitches up along with one of his eyebrows.
“Seriously?” he asks.
I nod, reminding myself to swallow so I don’t choke on the breath that’s been lodged in my throat ever since the air in the room between us thickened all those seconds ago.
