Page 74 of The Close-Up
“Maybe,” I mutter.
“Not maybe. It’s true. I, of all people, would know. I spend most of my days with those asshats, trying to help them,” Simon says.
Another laugh-like sound falls from my lips. I sniffle, then Simon yanks a napkin from the dispenser on the table and leans over to dab at my eyes. Such a small and simple act, but it has me warm all over with how attentive it is. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a guy literally wipe my tears away before.
“I mean it, Naomi. You’re incredible. Like, beyond incredible.”
“I definitely don’t feel incredible right now.” When I blow my nose, it’s so loud that the guy sitting at the table next to us side-eyes me. But then Simon glares at him, and he immediately looks away.
“You are, Naomi. You’re smart, funny, kind, driven, beautiful, adorable, and so sexy.”
Sexy.
My lips part. “Sexy?”
His eyes do that thing where they widen for a split second, but then he dials it back to a normal expression so quickly that I almost doubt I saw it in the first place. But I did. It happened. And it has my head spinning.
His jaw clenches. “Without a doubt. You’re beyond sexy, Naomi.”
He knocks back the rest of his drink, sets down the empty glass, then pats his hands on his knees. I assume he’s going to stand up to excuse himself to the bathroom or outside for some air.
But he doesn’t do either one of those things. He stays sitting and redirects his warm, intensive stare back at me.
“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. And that’s not just because of your beautiful face or your amazing body or any other smoking-hot physical trait you have. It’s in the way you move, the way you talk, the way you look at me. Everything about you sets me off, Naomi. It always has.”
“Oh...”
I trail off, leaning across the table. With each second that passes, I inch closer to him. It’s not like this is a major feat. This corner table is practically microscopic. But even if it were a ten-person dining table, it wouldn’t matter. There’s something magnetic in our interaction tonight. I’m drawn to Simon in a deep, visceral way and my body will do whatever it needs to do to get as close as possible to him as soon as I can.
When our faces are just inches from each other, I stop. Simon leans in even closer. I part my lips, his breath hitting my skin. He’s practically panting, and it makes every single nerve inside of me stand to attention.
There’s a shift happening between us. It’s so clear. I feel it everywhere—in my bones, in the blood rushing through me, in the goose bumps claiming my skin. This isn’t just an instance of Simon my friend offering moral support. This is heat. This is passion. This is fire. This is—
My cell phone ringing jolts us. Landon is calling me.
“Sorry,” I mutter to Simon.
He purses his lips, his expression taking on a hardened edge.
My head spinning, I answer. “Hey.”
“Baaaabe,” Landon yells into the phone.
I wince at the volume and hold my phone away from my ear.
“Babe, where are you right now?” he hollers.
In the background I hear shouting and music. He must be at a bar drinking everything in sight, judging by the way he sounds.
The muscles in my shoulders tense. Landon and I have definitely enjoyed our fair share of alcoholic beverages, but he always seemed to be the kind of guy who could responsibly gauge how much to drink and not let himself get too carried away. But maybe he was just displaying his good behavior to impress me.
“What’s up, Landon?” I say through a sigh.
“How fast can you make it to my place?” he growls through the phone.
My head spins at how demanding his tone is. “Um, what? I don’t know. I don’t even know where you live. I’ve never been to your place. And what the hell, why are you calling me asking me to come over now all of a sudden? I haven’t heard from you in a week.”
He booms a laugh. When I glance at Simon, I catch him frowning at my conversation for a split second before he looks away and sips his water.
