Page 51 of Unless It's You
“No!” I practically shout, needing to wallow in regret alone. “I’m good. Bye.”
I dart out the open door and slam it behind me, practically running down the hall and out of his building. I cannot believe I kissed him. That I took a chance on an impulsive feeling and a stupid attraction. It doesn’t matter that it feels like he’s genuinely accepting of me as I am, that he listens to the words that come out of my mouth, that he’s helping me with Evelyn’s bucket list.
I shouldn’t have kissed him. I shouldn’t be letting myself develop any feelings for him.
It’s still light out, a long London summer evening still stretching ahead, so I walk back through the park to clear my head instead of jumping on a red bus or into an Uber, high heels or not. Once I’m far enough away, striding along the edge of Regent’sPark toward St John’s Wood, the reality of what I just thought overwhelms me.
I’m not just attracted to Ethan. I have real feelings for him.
And I acted on those feelings, right in the middle of an important project at work and not even halfway through the bucket list month. I’ve probably ruined everything. At work. With Ethan.
Thankfully, I’m heading out of town tomorrow for another client’s commercial shoot a few hours outside of London, and there are no more meetings with Ethan this week.
It’s only when I get to the front door of my flat that I realize he called me Stella.
21
ETHAN
Monday, 22 July
It’s been almost a week since Stella kissed me and Nessie interrupted us by digging her inconveniently sharp kitten teeth into Stella’s thumb.
We could’ve laughed it off, but then it all went wrong. The call from Helen, the look on Stella’s face... and I froze, like a real arsehole, then thought of Ben, and how wrong it was to have my mouth on her.
I was thinking ofBenat that moment. Ben! Fuck me.
And then Stella fled. I should’ve chased after her.
I’ve texted her every day. She’s responded back with curt responses.
She was out of town on a commercial shoot.
She had to go out with the client for dinner.
She wassobusy.
And then on Saturday, she was exhausted.
After that, she just didn’t respond.
I shouldn’t have let her walk out the door last week withouttelling her... what, exactly? That kissing her filled my soul? That I wanted to keep going, that I think about her every day?
I’m so mad at myself for fucking that up. For letting her freak out. For letting her thinkIwas freaking out, even though I was.
Each morning, I’ve gone to the gym and lifted weights for an hour, followed by a long run, thinking about how Stella was sitting on my couch. Opening up to me, revealing a little more of herself.
But yesterday, while I was jogging along the canal back toward Camden, past London Zoo on the edge of Regent’s Park, I had an idea. I made a call to set it in motion.
Maybe it’s just a distraction from the fact that I’m about ten days away from the contents of Mum’s flat being dumped in the bin. At this point? I’m going to let it happen, and I’m not going to think about Stella emailing her classmate about helping. I can’t think about it for one more minute. I’d rather focus on Stella, her bucket list, and getting the Sporting UK Foundation commercial finished.
I shower and trim my beard, humming with excess energy. Colin’s out of town for the night, which is a relief as he’s given me a lot of shite since sort of meeting Stella last week. I was so distracted during our poker night that Colin and the others kicked my arse.
I’m acting weird as fuck, he said. Weirder than normal.
Stella’s not at her desk when I get to Pepper Me Marketing, so I throw my bag down and slide into my chair for five minutes. Today we’re discussing final storyboards, shoot location, and talent. It’s perfect. It’s fate. It’s all falling into place.
My mobile buzzes with an incoming text.
