I hold up a hand and stop him. “I will let you finish as long as you don’t say you’re not jealous.” My arm presses against his as I lean closer. Our lips inches apart. “Do not lie to me,” I whisper.
The chatter and music around us fades away. All I see are his twinkling blue eyes, guiding me like the North Star. All I feel is the heat of his body and breath on my skin, on my lips. If either of us pressed forward, our lips would meet. Soft and hot and ready.
“Peyton, I was jealous. Am jealous,” he confesses, only loud enough for my ears. His pupils dilate. Breath comes in bursts. He licks his lips and I feel his tongue ghost the edge of my lower lip.
I close my eyes but don’t dare move. “Why?” The single word loaded with several questions. Why are you jealous? Why me? Why does it matter?
Micah remains tight-lipped until I open my eyes. And when I do, I swallow at the intensity staring back. The swirl of fire and hunger in his eyes.
“Thought it was rather obvious,” he declares, voice gruff.
“Humor me,” I whisper.
The corner of his mouth kicks up. “Peyton, how can I not be jealous of any man who sleeps under the same roof as you?”
“I live in an apartment. Sure there’s more.”
“Smart-ass.” I smile. “Seriously, though. If I haven’t made it obvious enough, I kind of have a thing for you.”
“Kind of have a thing?”
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head until our noses bump. “No, not kind of. I have a thing for you.”
The attraction between me and Micah has been plain as day for weeks. Not sure if his feelings go beyond then, but that’s the first time I really paid attention. Neither of us can deny the spark. The ever-expanding ache between us.
But we have history.
Yes, I accepted Micah’s apology. Forgiving him, on the other hand, may take more time. It’s easy to let the words leave my lips. I forgive you. Feeling them, though, is a completely different wall to scale.
“Micah…” I inch back from him. Drag in a deep breath and hold it for five, four, three, two. “I… I don’t know how to respond to that.”
In my periphery, I follow his hand as it moves from his space to mine. And then he rests it on my thigh. Not too high, but somewhere in the middle, at the edge of the hoodie. Warmth radiates through the denim and heats my skin. I forget, for the umpteenth time, how to breathe.
“Don’t need to. Just wanted you to know.” He gives my thigh a slight squeeze, then rises from the lounger. I already miss the scent of his cologne in my nose. “C’mon.” He holds out his hand. “Let’s grab some food.”
I take his hand and we shuffle over to the table. We fill our plates with too much food and each grab a bottle of beer. Once we resume our seats, conversations shift to lighter topics. Autumn regales us with stories of outlandish tattoos. Jonas shares his mechanic wet dreams about working on a 1965 Shelby Mustang. We all hem and haw, but don’t appreciate it the same as he does. Gavin and Cora talk about upcoming photo shoots—she photographing a wedding and he’s modeling a new line of exercise gear.
I listen as they all carry on. In comparison, my life seems boring. Yes, I meet people from all walks of life in Roar. But I interact with them for maybe a few minutes. It’s pure coincidence if I pour all their drinks for the night.
Sometimes, though, boring isn’t so bad.
When everyone cleans their plates, Reznor, Tatyana, and Ashton say their goodbyes. With a little one to tend to, they still have plenty to do once they get home. Penny, Rex, Trevor, and Iliana leave next. As each person leaves, I get hugs instead of handshakes.
I take my phone from my pocket and check the time. Almost nine.
Micah taps my foot with his. When I look up, he tips his head toward my phone. “Hot date?”
With a shake of my head, I tell him, “No. Just don’t want to be out too late. I’m at the ALF tomorrow.”
“Finish your drink first?” He poses it as a question. Leaves me the opportunity to choose.
I lift the beer and swirl the contents. Two, maybe three, sips left. “Yeah.”
For the next fifteen minutes, the ladies chat with me. Ask what it is like working at Roar. If I deal with a bunch of pervs. I joke and tell them the only perv in Roar is Micah. Everyone but Shelly laughs. She merely slaps him.
When my bottle empties, I toss it in the trash, gather my hoodie and start my goodbyes. Shelly gives me a more exuberant hug than the one I received upon arrival. She also reminds me she will kick her brother’s ass if he hurts me. Cora and Gavin hug me next. Their embrace warm and friendly. Autumn and Jonas are next in line. After hugs are exchanged, Autumn says she hopes to see me again.
As weirded out as I was before I arrived tonight, leaving feels more nerve-racking. Like I am leaving behind family. Such a strange sensation, burning in my chest.
Micah trades hugs with everyone after me. “I’ll walk you out.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. But I’m heading out too. Plus, it’s late and I hear there are some crazy old men in this neighborhood.”
I laugh with a shake of my head. “Whatever. Let’s go.”
The front door clicks behind us as we step onto the porch. And suddenly, every sense amplifies.
I shiver as Micah’s cologne gets caught on the breeze and drifts up my nose. Cicadas sing alongside the occasional whoosh of a car driving on the cross street a hundred feet away. I jump when the motion light kicks on and beams down on the driveway. Then heat flushes my skin when Micah rests his palm on my lower back.
Breathe, Peyton.
Thirty-seven steps later, we reach my car. I reach into my pocket and press the fob to unlock the door. But I don’t open it. Instead, I stand there, frozen, staring at Micah like I’m broken.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I finally squawk out then clear my throat. “I had a nice time.”
Micah takes a step closer. The toe of his shoe inches from mine. “Glad you came. I had a great time, too.”
Before the words good night leave my lips, he steps forward and snakes his arms around my waist. And then I feel him toe to top. Pressure and heat and… desire. I drag my fingers up his arms, lace them behind his head and close my eyes as I breathe him in.