Page 44 of Plight
I couldn’t help but smile, and again, just like at the gala, I should’ve stepped back, created some distance and reminded him that we no longer needed to pretend to an absent audience, but … I didn’t, because his hand in mine felt harmless. Nice. Supposed to be.
Swallowing, I straightened my shoulders and tried to be clever. “I will speak in past until the past becomes present.”
He chuckled. “The past cannot become present.”
“Yes, it can.”
“Nope.” He tugged me along. “The past will always be the past.”
“Damn it, Lots, stop confusing me.”
“You’re confusing yourself.”
“Fine,” I said, trying to free my hand. “If the past cannot become the present, then you can’t excite me again.” I lifted our hands and pointed at his chest. “Ha!”
He held on tighter and guided my fingers to his lips, brushing them with a kiss ever so slightly. “Of course I can. And I will.”
“Oh my God!” I mumbled, “I take it back. You can excite me … multiple times.” I dipped my spoon back into my Yogurtland cup and greedily shoved more New York Cheesecake flavoured yogurt into my mouth. “This is amazing!”
“Told you it was better than the gala cheesecake.”
Swallowing, I craned my neck and peeked into his cup as we walked side-by-side. “What flavours did you get?”
“Red velvet, peanut butter, toffee pecan, annnnnd coconut.”
“Shut up! There was toffee pecan? Damn it! I didn’t see that.”
“That’s because you were too busy squealing over the cheesecake and cookie dough pieces.”
“Can you blame me? They’re the best yogurt toppings ever!” I shovelled in another spoonful, nearly smearing it onto my face when my heel caught a crack in the pavement, causing me to stumble before landing safely in Elliot’s arms.
“You okay?” he asked, holding me tightly.
I think I nodded, but I wasn’t quite sure. I definitely swallowed, though, my throat thick as I stared into his concerned eyes. “Yeah. Sorry.”
He helped me to my feet again, so I giggled to hide my embarrassment. “It’s just a little difficult to walk, talk and eat. I don’t want to sacrifice one for the other, you know?”
“We could’ve sat at Yogurtland and eaten. I did say that.”
“No. It’s okay. To be honest, I want to get back to your apartment.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Really?”
I playfully shook my head at his suggestiveness. “Yes, really. I’m kinda worried about Dudley and the state of your laundry.”
His waggling stopped. “What do you mean the ‘state’ of my laundry? What ‘state’ is it gonna be in?”
“Oh, it should be fine.”
“Should?”
I tried to avoid his gaze by looking into my cup. “Yeaaaah.”
“Right,” he said, spooning the last of his yogurt into his mouth and tossing his empty cup in the bin. “Get on.” He patted his back.
“What?”
“Get. On,” he repeated, finishing his mouthful.
