Outside, he followed me to the passenger side of his car. I figured his plan was to open the door for me, but instead, he leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest. He tucked his hands under his armpits, the fabric of his tee stretching enticingly over his pecs. His eyes stared into mine, but when his voice came out, it shook.
“Hey, Mo, I just want to say again that, when I went to the show tonight, I wasn’t thinking anything like this would happen. I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone—”
“You don’t need to keep telling me.” I cut him off. “I already told you I wasn’t looking either.” Feeling bold in my fatigue, I let my eyes travel slowly up and down the length of his lithe body. “But I can’t say I’m sorry.”
“Jesus.” Billy’s posture stiffened at my perusal, his face and neck flushing in the moonlight. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and released a heavy breath. “I know you said you’re not up for anything complicated. And I get it, with everything going on with your mom and the new job—”
“It’s okay. After tonight, I’m thinking a little complication might be worth it.”
He ran his hands harshly over his face before resting them on the door behind his hips. The gesture was fast. But I’d seen.
He’d been hiding it all night. In his pockets. Under the table. The shadows of the console. His right hand. Just a thumb,pointer, and middle finger. Missing space where the ring and pinky fingers should be.
My gaze remained steady. He obviously didn’t want me to notice, consciously or not.
He shoved his hands back in his pockets. “I need to deal with some shit,” he said. “But can I text you? I want to see you again.”
“Yeah. I’d like that.”
I stepped forward, until only an inch or two remained between us. We stood shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee as I gazed into his gray eyes, getting an up close look at his inky lashes. I heard his soft breathing. In the chilly air, it came out in white puffs, mingled with my own in the space between us as our chests rose and fell in tandem.
He closed his eyes and exhaled, reaching his left hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Drawing his palm down and around my neck, he squeezed delicately and leaned his face in. The faint drag of his nose along the skin of my cheek sent tiny shocks along my spine as he whispered into my ear, “I really, really want to see you again.”
I dared to rock forward on my toes, all but offering my lips. His eyes opened, and I saw him swallow. But instead of kissing me, he leaned his forehead down, pressing it against mine, panting faintly.
We stood there a few moments, the temperature rising between us, until he finally dropped his hand from my neck. His arm jerked, and I realized he’d reached behind himself to open the car door for me.
I startled at the movement, then stepped away, nodding in understanding.
As we drove home, Frank Sinatra’s “The Christmas Waltz” our accompaniment, I reflected on how surreal this night had been, like an altered state. Probably safer not to give in to the intensity.
At least not yet.
Chapter four
Maureen
Waking up only hours after Billy brought me home felt like coming out of a fever dream, thetime-out-of-mindsensation so acute I could easily convince myself last night hadn’t happened. Except, brushing my hair in the mirror, my fingers drew to that place in front of my ear where he’d grazed his nose. My breath caught with the memory.
Bren was home from Chase’s and eating grapes at our small kitchen table when I came out of my bedroom. She asked how my night had gone.
“Fine. We got some food, and then he brought me home.” I gave a bored shrug, snapping a grape from the bunch in front of her.
Letting her think my date with Billy had been unremarkable kept me from having to answer a bunch of questions I wasn’t ready to deal with. I’d been so indifferent toward romance my whole life. And now, without trying, I’d gotten a taste of the type of connection I’d always scoffed at. With a chuckle, I remembered that I’d forgotten to give Billy my real name at the end of our night. Hopefully, he’d have a laugh about that.
I went to work at the big box store I’d been at for over a year. My manager had been accommodating during my time there, so I’d given three weeks’ notice, other than the few days off for Thanksgiving. It was tough waiting to start my new job, but I wanted to be professional.
As I folded merchandise and inwardly cursed the teens making a mess of the displays, my thoughts drifted. I didn’t want to jinx it, but it felt like things were finally coming together for me—a career and possibly a relationship.
I waited for Billy’s text.
One of my coworkers grinned at me the hundredth time I pulled my phone out to check it. I narrowed my eyes at him and made myself focus on helping customers. Never in my twenty-six years had I waited on a guy. But I was excited, dammit. Last night wasgood.
When Billy asked to text me, I’d assumed he meant as soon as possible.
But he didn’t text that day.
Or the next.
