Page 51 of A Minute More

When we finally pile back in Jude’s car, I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lives. I’m tired and worn out and yet so happy.

You have a right to be happy.

Wesley’s hand sneaks over to mine and he links our fingers together. He wasn’t overtly affectionate with me around his friends, but his hands were always on me. I’m sure they’ve gotten the hint. Or at least they have a suspicion. I don’t know what this is, what this means. And neither does he.

I hate that my heart wants him when I know I can’t have him.

You can.

No. I can’t.

When we all make it back to his place, I pull up the Uber app on my phone, planning on going home. Needing to go home. I have obligations like I told Wesley. I can’t live in this make-believe land I’ve created.

I can’t.

“You running off?” he asks softly, standing so close. His eyes take in the app on my screen and my arm falls to my side.

“I have to go. I’ve spent too much time here already.”

His face falls, and he nods. “I’m sorry I took up so much of your day.”

Reaching out, I grab on to him, needing him to understand. “Wait. I didn’t…it isn’t like that. I had fun. It wasso much fun.”

He nods again, not quite believing me, but my confession is enough.

“Want to do it again?”

I can’t.

“Yes,” the word slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Yes. I do.”

He beams at my admission, the truth pulled from me, and then leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. His lips press against my mouth, and I inhale his goodness.

“See you tomorrow at work?” he asks, and I nod.

And when I catch my ride home, I replay every last minute in agonizing detail.

I can’t have him. I know this, and yet I can’t stay away.

He’s my biggest weakness.

My only regret.

CHAPTER8

WESLEY

Simon’s been extra quiet at work today, eyeing me constantly but never opening his mouth to say anything. And I just stare back, smiling softly at him, wishing he’d give me a hint about how he feels.

He’s turned my life inside out and he better fucking stick around to make sure that I don’t fall apart at the seams.

“Are we hanging out later?” I ask him when I catch him alone.

He eyes me and then turns his gaze forward. I think I see him nod, just a tilt of his chin, but, then again, I could be seeing things.

Damn him for not using his mouth to communicate.

I want him to use his words. All the words, over and over. I want to sit and listen to him speak for hours.

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