Page 53 of The Rebel (Looking to Score 1)
She laughs. “Okay, that sounds perfect.”
• • •
I spend the entire next day cleaning my apartment because it’s rare that I have visitors. Since I thought Eden might like something more low-key, I invited her over to my place tonight and told her I’d cook for her. A chill night in sounded like a good idea at the time, but now I’m second-guessing myself.
Surveying my work, I let out a sigh. It’s not as nice as Eden’s condo, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be self-conscious about it.
My apartment is a small one-bedroom in a good location, and the fact that the kitchen isn’t outfitted with sleek stainless steel or all the latest gadgets doesn’t bother me. I have what I need and not a thing more. Plus, I have a kick-ass balcony that I’ve decorated with cushions and white-string lights and warm flannel blankets, where I pictured us cuddled together under the stars as I cleaned today.
God, I sound like a sap, and I don’t even care.
My sheets have been washed, just in case things progress to the bedroom, and I even made sure to squeeze in some manscaping. So basically, I’m one thousand percent ready for this date tonight.
My phone rings, and for a second I think it might be Eden. Maybe something came up at the last minute. Maybe she needs to cancel. I sure as hell hope not.
But when I check the screen, it’s not Eden’s name I see. It’s my mom’s. My stomach sinks as I stab the ANSWER button with my thumb.
“Hello?” There’s irritation in my voice, but it’s nothing compared to the frustration I feel at the next words out of my mother’s mouth.
20
* * *
EDEN
I park outside Holt’s building at exactly six o’clock with a smile on my lips. I’ve never been here before, but I’ve been almost giddy with excitement all day.
First, I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready, even though he promised it was a very casual date at his place. After a lengthy shower, where I made sure to shave all the important parts, I blew out my hair and did my makeup with care.
Now I’m dressed in a pair of slim-fit dark jeans, and since the fall air is cool enough to warrant it, my favorite deep V-neck sweater in creamy oatmeal with what I’m hoping will be my secret weapon underneath—a push-up bra and matching panties in black satin. I can only imagine Holt’s expression when he discovers them.
With a deep breath, I head up the stairs to the apartment Holt indicated in his last text. I’m filled with anticipation. Maybe it’s because aside from Alex, I haven’t dated much. Or maybe I had such a surprisingly good time with Holt on the road, I’m eager for more time with the man I can’t stop thinking about.
I find his unit at the end of the hall and pause at his door to knock, my lips already twitching with the hint of a smile. After waiting about a minute with no answer, I press my ear to the door. It’s quiet inside, no voices or sounds of music, so I knock again.
As I wait, my smile starts to fade.
Still nothing.
I twist the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, peek my head inside. “Holt?” I call as I step through the doorway.
His place is compact, but clean and organized. It suits him. Nothing is out of place, and I can picture him here, rifling through the mail on the counter after work, or doing some push-ups in the center of the living room floor.
After a quick glance around the living room with its large gray couch and flatscreen TV, I spot him on the balcony outside, just beyond the glass doors at the end of the living room. He’s facing away from me, his hands gripping the railing and his head tipped down as though he’s studying his feet.
My good mood from moments ago is gone. Seeing him looking distressed like this brings a whole new set of emotions crashing through me—and a whole lot of confusion.
Suddenly Holt turns, and when he registers me here, standing in his living room, a look of uncertainty crosses his features. His posture is stiff, his shoulders set back as he stalks toward me. There’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. An empty, haunted look. I feel like I’ve done something wrong, but I have no idea what. It’s disorienting.
I swallow past the nerves in my throat, wondering what’s happened. What’s brought about this change in him. But I can do nothing but wait, because Holt doesn’t seem in a hurry to fill me in.
I shouldn’t be here. That’s the first thought that flits through my brain.
My heart pounds out a heavy rhythm as he comes closer, stopping beside the sofa where I stand. He lets out a heavy sigh and fists his hands at his sides.
