I hate it.
“What...” I take a moment to catch my breath. “I didn’t know you smoke?”
She tips her head back, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she takes a drag.
“I quit,” she says.
I motion toward her cancer stick. “Well, I’m not sure if you know this, but you started again.”
Corrine won’t meet my eyes, so I sit beside her, reach out slowly to drag my palm down her forearm to her fingers. I pull the cigarette from her fingertips and snuff it out. There’s no garbage can nearby so I place it on the stair beside me with a silent promise to the homeowner that I’ll come back to throw it away later. Then I place my hand in hers, palm to palm.
“What are you doing here, Corrine?” I ask the question I was too chicken to ask before. “What did you want to talk about?”
She pulls her hand from mine, dropping her head into both hands with a groan. “I don’t know. I was thinking about...” She sighs.
Lifting her face to mine, she says, “I was thinking about you. I needed to see you. There’s so much I need to say to you.” She sounds breathless. “Starting with I’m sorry but that’s not even close to enough. I couldn’t decide if I should come here or if I’m allowing myself to cross even more lines and I bought myself a pack of cigarettes while I was deciding and then I did come here and that woman answered the door,” she rambles.
My chest tightens with how much I love to hear her flustered. “Amy,” I tell her. “My twin sister.”
She swallows and her face relaxes into a look of relief. “Right.”
“You told mehowyou got here. Not why,” I say, still waiting, my heart beating in what I realize is anticipation. I want to hear her say it. I want her to tell me that she wanted to seeme. I need her to tell me that, after I laid everything on the line. Despite standing up for myself, telling her I wasn’t a mistake still left me feeling exposed. Because it meant that what happened between us meant more to me than it did to her.
She turns to me, her eyes sparking amber in the sunlight. “I’m here because I want... I want...” She stops, searches my face. “Iwant, Wesley.”
Fireworks explode in my head, in my chest, lower. She wants, potentially, me.
Slowly, I nod. “I want, too.”
She exhales. Her eyes drop to my mouth. “You do?”
I nod faster. “Alot...”
Her voice, adamant that our kiss could never happen again, saying she regretted it, that what we did was a mistake, that I was a mistake, loops in my brain.
“Wait...”
Rejection from a woman is nothing new to me. Rejection from Corrine, even if it was justified, even if it made sense, left a bruise.
“What, exactly, do you want?” I ask.
She closes her eyes. “You. To feel good. The way you make me feel. Everything.”
Her fingers grip mine so tightly they look like they’ll leave indents in my skin. No matter how much her words hurt, kissing her felt right. Touching does, too. Making her feel good feels like it should be my life’s work. I don’t care how desperate it might make me. If she wants me, of course I want her back.
When she opens her eyes again, I’m nodding.
“My god, yes.”
Her mouth twitches.
“Wesley,no onecan know,” she insists. Her face falls as soon as she says the words. “I can’t believe I said that to you. This is...” Her eyes widen. “Unprofessional is just the beginning of what this is.”
Lifting my hand, I cup her cheek. “Come back to my house with me.”
She shakes her head. “But...”
“Come. Back. With. Me.”
