Page 23 of Swear on My Life

“No, you weren’t. I’m sorry. I just . . .” I push up as anger at myself gets the better of me. “I’ll let you study.”

Grabbing my wrist, she stands. “Stay.” Still latched onto me, there’s no room to make excuses, so I stay, unsure of what she wants from me. Her breath has quickened, her chest rising and falling as fast. “What happened? What did I do?”

“No, you did nothing wrong, Lark. I . . .” I look away from her before I’m tempted to caress her cheek, to lean in and kiss the shine from her freshly licked lips. “I got caught up in a past I’ve tried to forget.”

“It was something I said?”

The truth isn’t something that needs to shroud our conversation. She didn’t mean to push my triggers. They’re mine and a fucking annoyance for ruining our time. Despite me escaping the question, I focus on her, the pretty girl, who looks at me like I might have a chance at being someone good, someone she can trust. “I haven’t eaten in hours. Want to go out and get something?”

Her hand falls back to her side as she looks away from me. “I don’t think I can.” I wouldn’t say she’s lying, but she is looking for excuses. I follow her gaze to the mug on the table and remember she couldn’t cover the coffee at the gas station. I’m a dick for putting her on the spot.

I reach over and take hold of her wrist this time and then slide my hand until her palm rests against mine. This connection is different than the ones we’ve shared before. Not less important, but more potent as if I’m being given a second chance. With her, my cousin’s death doesn’t overshadow who I am.

God, I could drink this in, savor her for hours if given the chance.

I wish I could.

I wrap my fingers around her just enough to hold her before she’s gone.

Her breath catches, and the tips of her nails send my pulse racing through my veins. Only seconds have passed, but I’ve lived a lifetime of bliss inside them with her. I don’t want this to end. “Hey,” I start with a whisper, lifting her chin so her eyes meet mine again. “I know paying your way is important but let me take you to dinner. I promise to let you take me another time.”

She giggles softly. “You’ll let me take you out on a date? You’re good, Harbor.” Waggling her finger, she adds, “Very good.” She takes a deep breath as her eyes search my face and then nods. “But I also can eat, so okay.”

I’ve had more enthusiastic reactions when asking girls out before, but that okay was worth the wait.

“Give me five? I need to change clothes.” Her hand starts to slip from mine as she walks away, so I tighten my grip on her just enough to bring her eyes back to mine. Questions fill her greens as we stand there in the briefest moment of silence.

“You don’t need to change one thing, Lark. You’re perfect as you are.” Dressed in shorts and sneakers with a cropped pale-pink T-shirt, she looks great. But even she knows I wasn’t talking about her clothes. “Don’t change.”

Angling on her ankle, she tilts—her body and head, “Ever?” Her voice is low, quiet . . . seductive. My body vibrates, reacting to the sound. I don’t think she even realizes what she does to me, and probably to every other guy on this planet.

Her naïveté makes her more enticing.

I step back, needing a breather before this night goes sideways. We’re not fucking, after all. At least not before I have the chance to buy her dinner. I run my hand over my head and clear my throat. “So dinner, then?”

Crossing the room, she replies, “Dinner, then.” She pulls out a little yellow-and-red wallet, she takes her keys with a smile that feels personally tailored for me. She sweeps her hair off her shoulders and into a knot on her head. “I guess I’m ready.”

We walk to the car, and I open the door. Lark slips inside, her eyes roaming the interior, and her hand rubbing the leather beneath her. I close the door and walk around the front to the driver’s side. My chest tightens from the sight of her tucked inside my car. It’s not a feeling I’m familiar with or one I can pinpoint. Just feels good to be around her, and I’ll take that good and try to hold on to it because it’s not as common after the accident.

As soon as I start the engine, she rests her head back, and smiles at me. “What are you craving, Harbor?”

“What am I craving?”Fuck.She’s going to do me in. “Pizza, burgers, tacos, or there’s a little Italian place in the far corner of the square? I think they close just over an hour from now, so we need to get going.”

“I love Moretti’s. It’s always a treat.”

“Moretti’s it is, then.”

She lives close enough to downtown to get to the restaurant within five minutes, even with the two stoplights. Even though it’s not that late, Moretti’s closes earlier on Sunday nights. When we walk in, Lark asked the hostess, “Is it too late for dinner? We don’t want to keep you.”

Most people I know don’t give a damn about other people’s schedules or lives that might be affected. I think that’s why Lark stands out so much . . . Or should I say even more at this moment?

I may have only just met her yesterday, but I can tell she doesn’t have a pretentious bone in her body. I add that to the list of things I find so attractive about her. It’s a list that’s getting longer with every hour we spend together.

The hostess smiles, tapping Lark on the arm, and says, “You know you’re always welcome here, Lark.” Her eyes shift to me and then back to her, giving her a little wink. “I have the perfect booth for you right back here. Follow me.”

They chat as if they’ve known each other forever, asking about each other’s families and how their classes are going this semester.

The restaurant isn’t big, but it’s quaint, and the food is good. As we pass through the dining room, I can’t help but notice it’s quieter with only a few tables occupied. The Italian music can barely be heard, low enough to allow for private conversations.

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