Camila
We walk into the house,boots echoing softly in the hall. This isn’t a typical date. There’s no dropping me off, no convo before I unlock my door, no waving goodbye as a car drives off. Instead, we’re both here, side by side, living under the same roof, heading down the same hallway toward bedrooms that face each other like a dare.
We make small talk to fill the awkwardness. Or maybe I’m the only one who feels strange about our circumstances.
“I’m just glad I didn’t fall off Daisy Duke,” I say as we stop in front of our doors and turn to face each other.
“What are you talking about? You’re a natural.”
There’s a puff of laughter as I fidget with the bottom of my shirt—I guess it’shisshirt.
The air feels heavier, thicker, charged as we stare back at each other. I had the same feeling earlier, during the picnic. I thought Hess was going to kiss me—at least, I wanted him to.When he didn’t, the disappointment had shocked me with its sharpness, like a sting I hadn’t expected.
Normally, if I want a kiss, I go after it. I’ve never been shy, never sat back and waited for a man to decide if he wanted me or not. I’ve always balked at traditional dating conventions. I’m a strong, independent woman. I split the bill at dinner. I control the relationship. I kiss when I want, leave when I’m done.
But with Hess, it’s different. Something about the way he takes care of me, respects me, shows me how gentle a man can be, makes me want to try out the old-fashioned rules I’ve always mocked. I wanthimto choose me.
It’s scary giving him that much control over my heart.
His eyes catch mine and hold them.
So much softness radiates from his gaze, a paradox against the masculine strength he carries.
What if we just touch the burning stove?
Then his gaze flicks down to my lips. My stomach drops and soars at the same time. The beating of my heart is so loud I’m sure he can hear it. He takes off his cowboy hat, fluffing his hair.
This is it.
I roll my lips together, moistening them as I wait for him to make his move.
But then he says, “I had a nice time tonight,” bringing all the hammering to an abrupt halt.
My chest caves as I push a smile. “Me too.”
“We’ll have to do it again sometime.”
“Yeah, for sure.”
“Goodnight, Camila.”
“Goodnight,” I whisper as he steps inside his room and shuts the door.
The sound is final…and far too loud in the quiet hall.
I blink a few times before turning into my own room and shutting the door. Leaning back, palms flat against the wood,disappointment squeezes the air out of me. I tilt my head against the door, staring at the ceiling.
Why didn’t Hess kiss me?
Not at the picnic.
Not now.
Every negative belief I’ve formed about men comes crashing to the forefront of my mind.
They don’t mean what they say.
You can’t trust them with your heart.
