Watching your ass for the past eight months.
Stroking myself to memories of your smile in the shower every morning.
Hearing your laugh every time I close my eyes.
Last night. Last fucking night.
"You," I said. "You bring it all out, sweet thing."
She turned her attention to the table and busied herself with balling up the napkins and gathering the ice cream cups, but I noticed a rosy flush creeping across her cheeks. "Always the nice ones," she murmured. "The awkward ones too. Oh, they're even worse."
I stood, squeezing her hand and tilting my head toward the exit. "Come with me. Let's see where the streets take us tonight."
The evening air was cool and damp, and puddles dotted the sidewalk from today's on-and-off rain. Fog and clouds hung low over the city, and it gave me a valid excuse to keep Stella tucked close to my side. It wasn't a good night for walking, no more than necessary. But she asked for this and I was willing to do a great many things to keep this woman in my company.
We made our way around one side of Beacon Hill and down the other. The logical next stop was my apartment, the one I'd selected for its proximity to the hospital. I could be dressed, out the door, and inside the facility within minutes. The greatest variation in my commute time was my willingness to jog through oncoming traffic.
She led the way, urging me down narrow side streets and around corners I'd never noticed. I was certain she was leading us on the most circuitous path to my building but I didn't know whether she was waiting for me to insist on taking her home like I did last night. I wanted to. I wanted her. But with every step we took, one fact became arrestingly clear.
This wasn't last night. The vibe was wrong, the gravity was off. Yesterday was cosmic. It was fairy dust and sliding doors and a rowdy beaver. Today was the hangover. Even if I loaded up on fairy dust and went looking for a beaver, I wasn't getting yesterday back.
When we reached my building, I tipped my head toward the door before wrapping my arms around her waist. "Here we are again."
She hummed in agreement as she stared at the building. "We are. It's funny how we have this small circle of places. The trail, a place to eat, your apartment. We keep going around and around."
"We do." I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. She tasted of cold and cream and sweet berries, and I kissed her as if I wanted that flavor all for myself. I didn't mind ice cream when it was on her tongue.
But Stella stepped back, denying me those berries. "There are a few things I should tell you."
I gestured for her to continue but she said nothing, instead staring at me.
Finally, she said, "I have to tell you this and I'm sorry it took me so long to get it out." Her expression softened and she tilted her head to the side as if she was looking at a one-winged duckling. "You're such a nice guy and I don't want to hurt you."
Oh, fuck.Not this again. I knew it was going to come back and bite me. I knew there was something I was missing.
"I'm not," I argued. "I'm not even close to a nice guy." I hooked my thumb over my shoulder, toward the hospital complex. "I can get twenty interns and residents over here right now who will tell you I'm an asshole. One of them made a dartboard with my picture on it. Rumor has it someone made a voodoo doll a few intern cohorts back."
"You're a nice guy, Cal," she repeated, laughing. "You're a nice guy and I don't want to give you the wrong idea about me." She circled her hand between us. "I don't dothis. I dothat." She pointed toward my building. "I like to keep it casual. I don't dothis. The relationship thing. I don't talk about feelings or families or—I don't know. Lasagna. I don't do this. I don't do the thing you want."
"How do you know what I want?" I laughed to soften the snap of my words. "You don't know what I want, Stella. You don't."
She clasped her hands under her chin and gave me an evilly angelic look. "You asked me to marry you yesterday."
"You keep mentioning that."
"It's worth mentioning," she replied. "It's kind of a big deal."
"Only because you haven't given me an answer," I said.
"Yeah," she murmured, nodding. "That's the point."
She glanced up at the building again. Stared at the windows, the old brown bricks. Stared so long I thought she was waiting for me to walk away. But I wasn't going to do that. "I hate to break it to you, Stel, but if you're expecting me to leave, you'll be waiting a long damn time."
"And why is that?"
I had to close my eyes to keep from rolling them. "Because I spent eight months trying to figure out the right way to say hello to you. Because you climbed into my lap and kissed me yesterday morning. Because I made you scream the very first time I tried. Because the best and worst thing about me is I don't know how to give up. Because I think we want the same things but we're saying it in different ways."
She waved her hands at me as if she was trying to stop traffic. "Cal, no. We are not saying the same things. I assure you."
