Page 125 of To Believe In You
If only Matt had done the normal thing and waited for a romantic moment to declare his love instead of shooting it off in a text, having it hang undiscussed for days, and then … And then she’d come back, and he’d had lessons to teach, and … “You shouldn’t have told me in a text.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a rule?” Challenge smoldered in his tone, and her defenses smoked like kindling.
“Not a rule, per se, but a social norm.”
“Maybe it used to be.” He straightened away from the wall, and the already-small alcove seemed to shrink. “I’m pretty sure text is an official communication channel now.” A step brought him nearer.
Her body buzzed to draw close, but instead, she stayed anchored in place. She hadn’t felt so torn between adventure and safety since childhood, when she’d stood on the towering diving board at a friend’s pool party, second-guessing the decision to jump. “I guess I’m old-fashioned. Does that change your feelings?”
He dipped his chin and focused on her with confident amusement as though she’d just double-dog-dared him to steal her heart and keep it forever. “I need you, Lina.” The man might have talent with a bass guitar, but the low words packed more power than a song ever had. He caught her hand and tipped his head to secure eye contact. “I love you.”
Mouth dry and heart racing, she felt as though he’d joined her on the high dive and pulled her to the edge. Daring her to jump. She opened her mouth to accept the challenge by admitting her own feelings, but they hadn’t even made it outside.
Samantha’s reaction moments ago had been embarrassing enough. What if a student stepped out? Or a parent might wonder what kind of environment this was for their child.
They’d be better off anywhere else. Her house, maybe. Or the parking lot, at least.
“We should take this conversation away from our workplace.” She reached behind her for the handle, then stepped forward to get out of the swing of the door, expecting Matt to comply, but he didn’t budge. She bumped into him and fumbled back, the meager space between them teeming with invisible currents.
“It must be exhausting to follow so many rules.” He watched her expectantly, as if he could sense her muscles tiring of resisting the pull toward him.
Did he remember saying something similar before their first kiss? Probably, and the troublemaker was hoping for a similar response.
“Technically, I’m still your boss here.”
“I’m quitting.” His promise brushed her cheek as his hand found her waist.
“Oh. And in Awestruck, it’s the opposite. You’re higher up the chain than I am.”
“Different departments.” He circled one of her curls around his finger then released it. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll quit the band too.”
She laughed. “You wouldn’t.”
“Pick you over Awestruck?” Reckless allegiance flashed in his eyes. “Try me.”
His resignation letter from the last time he’d promised such a thing remained in her desk drawer. He drew her closer. She kicked his feet as she found her footing. Her hands—wayward things—found their way to his chest.
Awestruck was a much bigger deal than Key of Hope, yet his expression remained sincere. “All I’d need to hear is that you love me too.”
“I don’t want you to quit Awestruck.”
“Then what do rule followers do to make a workplace romance work?”
She realized then what kind of company he would’ve been on that high dive. He wouldn’t push her into the deep end. He’d only keep inviting her until she made the decision for herself. And she loved him all the more for it.
“Talk to HR, I guess.”
“Does Awestruck have an HR department?”
“Yes. Her name is Brittany.”
Laughing, Matt traced her jaw with a fingertip. “Okay. So do I need to talk to Brittany, or do you … are you not interested in this?” His focus dropped to her lips and stayed there. He must’ve seen her smile, because one ghosted his mouth.
She might be able to help him with plans and organization, but he balanced her caution with courage, spontaneity, and the occasional front flip. The least she could do was face the high dive. “I love you, too, Matt.”
Where she saw barriers, he saw possibility, and she needed that in her life. Needed him.
She could tell him so—that might even be the reasonable thing to do—but instead, she kissed him. When reason raced up to warn her about workplace rules and broken hearts and an uncertain future, she tightened her hold on him. He’d proved himself trustworthy in a multitude of ways, from his bravery with Shane to the way he cupped her chin as he kissed her now.
