Page 59 of We Met Like This
“You smell sweet. Like citrus or something.”
“Um… pomegranates. My lotion.” I could feel my blood pulsing in my neck and in places much lower.
He met my eyes and his hold tightened around me.
I ran my fingers through his hair, then leaned down, my eyes closing in anticipation of the kiss.
“You don’t think we have anything in common?” he asked, his lips millimeters from mine.
My eyes flew open. “What?”
“In your message, you said you didn’t think we had anything in common.”
“Don’t listen to drunk Margot. She rambles.”
“So youdothink we have things in common?”
I hesitated. “We probably do… um… We’re both funny.”
He laughed.
“Doyouthink we have anything in common?” I asked.
“We both have our own businesses.”
“One of us does. The other has a very long road ahead of her.”
“It’s something,” he said.
“We are both very attractive,” I said.
He smiled, lifted me off the chair, and spun around, setting me on the ground. I looked up at him in surprise.
“We’re good at this,” he said, a single finger running from the inside of my elbow to my wrist, showing me what he meant bythisas waves of pleasure sang through me.
“So good,” I agreed.
“We need to make sure we’re good atnotthis.”
“That sounds like a terrible plan,” I said. Aside from today, we’d only hung out two times in real life. The first time was catastrophic and the second time, in the end, not much better. “You want to keep trying?”
“Iwantto throw you on this table and taste every inch of you.”
“Okay.”
He chuckled. “And god, I want that feeling in a relationship. It’s been awhile since I’ve had that. But I also want something real. Something more. We need to see if we get along outside of apps… and cars.”
I stepped closer to him, our chests almost bumping. “So you want to ignore the physical stuff for a while and… be friends?” Why was this man insisting on keeping the only thing we seemed to be good at together away from us?
“If that’s what you want to call it.” His voice was barely above a whisper and his eyes were steady on mine.
“Right. Okay.” I took a step back, breaking our connection. “I… I need to shower. Alone,” I added for some stupid reason. “I mean, of course alone. You already made that clear. I’m an idiot. I’ll-I-I’ll be back.”
I left him in my kitchen, and it wasn’t until I was locked in my bathroom standing under a steaming hot shower that I realized I should’ve given him the option to leave. Maybe he did.
“I hope he left,” I whispered to the white tiles in my shower.
“Liar,” they would’ve whispered back if they could talk.
