Page 50 of Fighting Words

“Should I?” he asks.Have you?

My eyes are already closed. My reply is so clear.

He knows it, but he doesn’t give it to me. His lips never press down to mine. He never takes the path he promises he will.

He leaves me there, standing with my eyes closed, his handprint burned on my arm, and I don’t see him again the rest of the night.

CHAPTER 15

NATE

I’m lying in bed,thinking about Summer. I’m thinking aboutSummer’s lips, full and perpetually curved like she’s smiling at a hidden secret.Summer’s forever legs, the kind that draw your eye and keep your attention. I rarely see them since it’s the dead of winter, only when she wanders out in her nightshirt, the hem skimming the middle of her thighs, my wool socks bunched around her ankles.Summer’s smart mouth.I took a shower last night, getting myself off while the hot water poured over me.

I felt guilty then and I feel it more so now, listening to her move around in her room, knowing I’m fantasizing about a girl I shouldn’t touch.

I almost kissed her last night in the kitchen. Where would we be now? In my bed?

We shouldn’t talk about relationships anymore. I shouldn’t keep bringing up Andrew.

Andrew.

I fling my blankets off and push to stand, stretch, and then head for the door. We’re supposed to start work soon, and if I’m late, Summer will have my head. She’s fierce, yes, but she’s also a pain in my ass.

I go into the bathroom, and she’s there, brushing her teeth. Her strawberry blonde hair is piled up on her head. Her nightshirt is just as I pictured it a moment ago: too short.

“Get out.”

She glares at me. “I’m almost done, you brute,” she says, the words barely discernible as she speaks around the side of her toothbrush.

“I need to pee.”

“Thenpee.”

Fine by me.

I walk over to the toilet and am about to drop my pants when she squeals and darts out into the hall. “I was kidding!”

I kick the door closed with my foot and smile.

I’m done in a matter of seconds. I wash my hands then grab my toothbrush. She gets impatient.

“Are you almost done? I need to spit.”

The doorknob jangles and she pushes her way back inside.

I love this cottage. For years, it’s fit me perfectly. This sink has always done its job, but now with two people standing in front of it, hip to hip, it seems too small. I guess I could move. Ishouldmove, but then Summer’s leg wouldn’t brush mine. Our arms wouldn’t touch.

She leans over, runs the water, rinses her mouth. When she comes up, she smiles and shows off her teeth, as if she’s a kid proving she’s done. I expect her to leave, but she gets out a cosmetic bag filled with creams and mascaras and whatever else she seems to think she needs. I’m staring at her right now, fresh out of bed, and she’s stunning.

I finish brushing my teeth, and then I ask, “How long are you going to leave your bras and underwear hanging in the upstairs hallway?”

She rubs moisturizer onto her face and shrugs. “They weren’t dry when I went to bed last night.”

“Surely they’re dry now.”

Her eyes catch mine in the mirror. “Are your cheeks a little red?”

I prop my hands on my hips. The gesture is supposed to conveyNo more nice guy, but she doesn’t look the least bit worried. “Get that lacy black bra out of my hallway.”

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