For a second, the air between us turns heated, like someone’s cranked the thermostat up tosexual tensionand forgotten where the off switch is.
And I can’t help my pulse starting to race. Does this moment mean he’s still attracted to me? Or is it just the memories of last night when we were both riding the high of good sex and questionableStar Warsroleplay?
Jared’s gaze moves from my eyes to my cheek. He swallows hard and turns his attention back to the sink.
I guess that gives me my answer.
“Right, so I’ll be off then,” I say brightly. “I’ll just grab my Yoda costume from your room. Are you okay if I return your clothes after I’ve washed them?”
“Ah yeah, that’s fine.”
When I emerge from his bedroom, he’s hovering by the front door.
“So, um…thanks for the great night,” I say.
“It was my pleasure,” he says.
He goes to move toward me like he might give me a hug, but pulls back at the last minute, rocking back on his heels.
“See you round.” I give him my best smile, clutching my Yoda costume like it’s emotional support laundry as I leave.
At least my walk of shame is the shortest in existence, only about thirty feet.
My apartment door closes behind me with a click.
Okay, I’m not going to focus on the way that Jared looked at my face and it completely ruined the mood.
Instead, I’m going to focus on what he said about being friends.
Did he mean it?
I really hope so.
Chapter 3
My first week at the clinic goes okay. My head is spinning with all the new stuff I’ve learned about IV catheter placement and fluid rates and the thirteen different ways a cat can let you know it’s displeased when you try to take its temperature.
But Friday evening, instead of collapsing, I’m vibrating with nervous energy because all week I’ve been working up my courage to see Jared again on the excuse of returning the clothes he loaned me.
I might have done a wee bit of spying, and I know that Jared came home around seven-thirty p.m. and hasn’t left his apartment since.
Should I just go to his door and knock? Would that be weird? I don’t want to be accused of being a stalker.
And then there’s the fact that I haven’t been able to stop replaying Halloween night with Jared all week.
How he kissed me so intently, with such abandon and passion.
The way his hands knew exactly where to grip, how hard to hold, when to be gentle, and when not to be.
How crazy is it that the guy with the chocolate-cake voice who talked to me in the dark is also someone who can light up my body like that?
I can’t help hoping that if Jared is serious about being my friend, I can hopefully nudge us toward a friends-with-benefits situation. I mean, we’ve already proven we’ve got incredible sexual chemistry. Surely that would get him to overlook my face? I mean, I could offer that we only have sex in the dark if he prefers.
But then a horrible scenario plays out in my head, one where Jared agrees to mess around, but then he can’t get it up, and we have to sit there in the world’s most awkward silence while his dick stages a conscientious objection to my face.
Since my accident, my brain has become increasingly good at its ability to come up with nightmares while I’m still awake.
Fuck, something else to talk with Annie about at our next appointment.
