“Well…” She seems to consider for a moment, then she shrugs. It’s so fucking pretty. It’s weird to think it’s pretty, a shrug, but she’s wearing this pink sweater that bares both of her shoulders, her blonde hair is pulled half back, so casually cute… it’s fucking pretty. She’s fucking pretty. It makes my skin crawl how pretty she is.
Then she finishes her thought and makes it worse. Her plump lips curve up a little mischievously, and she says, “Then I guess I’ll just have to adjust my fantasies. Captive fantasies instead of break-in fantasies. Still hot.”
I can only stare at this crazy fucking girl.
She won the conversation with that one sentence, so she pushes back from the table and stands. “You didn’t finish the grocery list. I’m just going to make Nana’s recipe. We can make your mom’s next time. We’ll have a sauce cook-off.”
I still haven’t moved, but she does, moving in close, brushing against me. I don’t understand how she’s still light and playful after what I just said. I half-expect her to be playing me right now, just wanting to safely extract herself. That’s probably the smartest thing she could do. Play nice and leave—then keep driving until she’s back in Chicago, since now she knows that’s the one place I can’t go.
I’m half hoping she does that, but the playful glint in her blue eyes as she runs a hand down my chest before brushing past me to grab her purse gives birth to a million doubts.
She can’t still like me after what I just told her, right? She can’t.
“I’ve done worse than that,” I state. My back is still to her, but I can hear her steps halt.
“Okay?” she says, tentatively.
“I’m just saying.”
We stand there for a moment, back-to-back. Neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks.
Finally she breaks the silence, saying simply, “So have I.”
I await further explanation or questions, but they don’t come. The next thing I hear is the sound of my front door opening and closing as Carly leaves for the grocery store.
Chapter Seven
Vince
Carly and I do not revisit the kidnapping conversation. She didn’t head for Chicago. She went to the grocery store, came back to my apartment and made me dinner. Despite my caution, it shoots down several of my guards. She’s too goddamn nice. I haven’t known someone this irrationally tolerant since… well, Mia.
Since Mia.
But Carly’s different. I feel like she actually likes me. I guess I felt like Mia liked me once, but not recently. The feeling I was trying so hard to relocate and cage was this. The way Carly looks at me, even though I’m being a huge pain in her ass and I don’t deserve any kind of fondness. Already this girl knows more about the darker side of me than any girl I’ve slept with in years, and I haven’t so much as kissed her.
Tonight we’re at Carly’s apartment watching more of this dumb Superman show she likes. She’s cuddled up against me, stealing popcorn out of the bowl in my lap.
“Remember when you said you didn’t want any?” I ask, grabbing a fistful of buttery goodness.
Carly nods, her eyes still trained on the television. “I should probably tell you, in case we ever go to the movies together, I always say I don’t want any, but it is never true.”
“So I should upsize the popcorn?”
She nods, her messy bun bobbing. “And order yourself an extra Diet Coke.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier just to order what you want?”
She shrugs, grabbing another handful of popcorn. “What fun is easy? Much more fun to silently desire something and wallow in disappointment when the guy who brought you doesn’t read your mind.”
I chuckle. “You must be a blast to date.”
Poking me in the arm, she says, “I just gave you a cheat sheet. Now you know when I say no, sometimes it means yes.” As if she knows things she shouldn’t, she gives me a little wink before grabbing more popcorn.
“You might be the death of me,” I inform her.
“Nah,” she says, dismissively. “I’m your saving grace.”
“So, what happens if I order you popcorn and you really don’t want popcorn? Then are you pissed off all night?”
“Then I eat the popcorn. It’s popcorn; what am I, an asshole? Who doesn’t like popcorn? If I have to run a couple extra miles the next day, it’s worth it. Movie theater popcorn is delicious. I never get mad at my man for taking care of me. Not that you’re my man—don’t freak out, it’s just a general statement.”
I roll my eyes, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn. “I understand. You don’t have to tiptoe around my commitment issues.”
She gives me a side-eye, clearly not trusting that statement, but she turns her attention back to the movie and lets the topic drop.