Page 31 of Touch Me

“Cute.”

Her eyes pierce mine, and she tilts her head as she studies me. Unsure if it’s a sign of contention or concession, my blood heats and races through my body. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I find myself unable to look away. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

She breaks first and glances away. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure how long you’d stay in there if I fed you.”

“But you did feed me,” I say, motioning to the kitchen behind me.

“Yes, but you had to come out to get it.” She grins, a giggle bubbling out, and I silently thank the lord for the darkness so she can’t see yet another rush of heat to my cheeks—is she trying to ease the tension weighing down the room, or am I so ridiculously pathetic she can’t hold back her amusement? “I’m not cruel.”

“Just enough to eat my Thai food?”

“It was so good,” she exaggerates, rubbing her belly, and I fail to hide the smile tugging at my lips.

Her smile draws my gaze back to her face, and I find myself unwavering when she meets my eyes again. My body shows all the normal signs of discomfort, but my eyes won’t leave her face. My feet itch to move away,but for once,my brain complies with whatIwant instead, as if it’s ready to settle in with a bucket of popcorn, curious to see how this plays out.

My body and brain are at war with each other as I stand here with a smile on my face and a growing hard-on. If that isn’t the epitome of crazy, I don’t know what is.

“Jace, sit down.” She gestures to the dark end of the couch, not lit by the light from the kitchen.

“First, you eat my food and destine me for starvation, now you’re bossing me around,” I say playfully.

I’m not sure if it’s because we are in a dimly lit room or if she’s just easy to talk to, but I find flirtatious banter easy with her. Not that I even know if I’m doing it right. I guess her response will be telling.

“First, I didn’t starve you. I cooked for you. As I said, you just had to come out and get it. And second, you don’t have to sit down. You can go back to your room if you want.” Her eyes never leave mine while she speaks, but her expression changes. I have no idea what it means, but I know it isn’t flirting back.

Once again, I’m reminded of what she must think of me. Of how she must’ve felt over the last two days. Like she did something wrong. I was never good at reading other people’s emotions. I’m still not. But I’ve spent enough time studying people that it’s almost as if I’ve memorized a chart of faces and can place them with the corresponding emotion. I immediately feel like an ass for joking around. Either that, or I really don’t know how to flirt.

I set my stock of food and water on the coffee table and sit on the other end of the couch where the kitchen light won’t touch me.

“Are you okay?” she asks, turning toward me, propping her back against the arm of the couch, and drawing her legs up to her chest.

“Like, today, or in general?”

“You know what I mean. What’s going on with you? You reluctantly let me move in here. I can tell you’re uncomfortable. I try to leave, and you ask me to stay. And every time we’re in a room together, you either don’t talk, answer only direct questions so as not to be rude, or you run away like your ass is on fire. I’m having a really hard time not taking it personally. I’ve spent more time alone in this apartment this week than I have with you. So I’m confused as to why you asked me to stay and help if you just planned on ignoring me the whole time.”

I chance a peek in her direction, and when my eyes land on her, she sinks into the couch so I can only see her eyes above her knees.

Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and I can’t tell if it’s a smile or a wince as I can’t see her face. “Sorry, that was a lot to spew at you all at once.”

“It’s fine.” I nod my acquiescence and look away. “It needed to be said.”

My heart thumps in my chest, and my hands slick with nervous sweat. I know I have to tell her. Right here, sitting in the dark, is probably as good a time as any.

“Can you not look at me,” I ask quietly.

If I see her eyes fill with pity, I’ll never get through this.

She cocks her head. “What?”

My anxiety is ticking like a bomb in the back of my head as the chaos that is my brain flips through flashes of memories—I feel my control slipping already, and I snap, “Look, I’m gonna do my best to explain some things to you, but I can’t do it if you’re looking at me.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Her eyes widen, and she turns onto her side, facing the empty room with her hand under her head.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my pant legs and squeeze my eyes shut to grant myself a much needed moment of darkness. “Sorry, this is hard for me,” I confess.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mean to question you. It just took me by surprise.”

I blow out a breath and run my hands through my hair. “I’m different.” I pause.

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