Page 114 of Falling Backwards
“Youaccept it!”she says.
“I don’t want it!”
“Too bad!”
I finally get away from the table.She follows well enough for me to try to stick the money back into her coat, but my other hand is too busy holding my stuff to stop her from wrangling the cash out of my fingers.I give it up, then quickly cover the candy so she can’t use her tactic again.
But she shoves her hand down into my pants pocket instead.
I suck in a breath and halt my backwards shuffle—she jostles into me and grabs my other shoulder with her free hand, eyes wide like she’s startled herself along with me.
Holy God,is loud in my mind like our breaths in the ringing silence and my heartbeat in my ears.
This sudden closeness has me noticing a few things at once.
The shade of her irises in this lighting; it’s almost like actual moss.
A sheen appearing on her lips because she’s just wet them; I automatically do the same to mine, and she flicks a glance to them.
Her hand feminine and addictive where mine is always unremarkable; the warmth emanates through the fabric to my thigh, which tells how very close she is to my skin, which is a mouthwatering fact, especially with her touch this close to certain other parts of me.
And she isn’t skittering away.
Or moving at all.
Or trying to apologize.
Or saying anything else.
She’s just standing here, looking up at me with thosemagnetic fucking eyesand keeping her handin my fucking pocket.
I don’t mind.
Can’tmind.
It’s a golden cage of a moment—trap me here for an hour, I don’t care.
This is going on my list of touches I’m okay with.Pretty sure her hand belongs right where it is.
That thought is on the cusp of branching out into others, the stirrings of which are already starting to shake me deep, when I pick up on light chatter outside the breakroom.
Maggie registers it too.With a quick breath, she finally leaves the money in my pocket and pulls her hands back to herself.I clear my throat a little more loudly than I mean to.
Another hostess and a server come into the room.I nod at the latter when he looks at us, and oddly, the color and style of his hair remind me of Marcus’s.
Once again, I can’t fathom how he stopped wanting Maggie to be his.For one thing, how was it not enough for him that he liked her as a person?He said she’s a nice girl, not that she cheated or was abusive in any way—did he not think that meant anything?Did he not have special memories and plans with her that he cared about?Andthento add on the distaste for her getting a little curvier during their relationship….
None of it makes sense to me.If I were him, I would’ve never—
Wait, what am I talking about,‘I would’ve never’?That sounds, like, jealous or longing or like,‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,’or—
“Hey,” she whispers, “why are you staring at Dan like that?”
I blink, blink, blink and realize Ihavebeen staring at him.He hasn’t noticed like she has, though.
My eyes pass over the clock on the wall.My break is ending.I’ve got no time to tell Maggie any of the Marcus-related things that are piling up in my brain…
…or to relish touching her in any of the ways I’d like to…
