His eyebrows lift. “You feel comfortable with me?”
“I do. Not with the work you’re giving me.” I gesture to the nearby task list. “But with you, yes. I’m glad we met.”
He smiles the shadow smile. The reluctant one that sits so oddly upon his lips. “I’m glad, too.”
We watch each other. I’m nervous and excited and beside myself with wanting him. I lick the dryness from my lips, imagining the taste of his skin on my tongue.
Gasping, he stands abruptly. “I should go.”
My skin tingles with awareness as he collects his things, and we make our way to the front door. I’ve been falling for Tristan since the day we met, but I never actually believed the feelings could flow both ways. I’m so weird and awkward and generally unsuccessful at life. I’m not half-bad looking. That’s never been my problem. But it’s rare to find a man who’s still attracted to me after getting to know me better.
Tristan is, though. It’s not just my voice. He’s attracted to all of me. The realisation is new and fragile, but I’m certain it’s true.
He opens the front door before turning my way. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Anytime.” I mean it. I really would cook for him anytime, if only to hear the sounds he makes as he eats, so I can look at his gorgeous self and spend time with him. I feel good about myself when I’m with him. It’s a feeling to be cherished.
“I’m going to do the things,” I tell him with determination. “One at a time. I’m going to do the hell out of those things.’
“Glad to hear it.” He offers his hand and I accept but we don’t shake. It’s about the touch, not the formality. After the longest time, he pulls away. “Goodnight, Sam.”
I smile as he walks out the door. “Goodnight.”
TEN
______
TRISTAN
Sam’s house is silent when I arrive the next Friday afternoon. The windows are locked tight, despite the warmth of the day. I push the doorbell and wait. A full minute ticks over.
He should be expecting me. We’re supposed to go over the progress he’s made this week before his class starts in an hour. I’m dressed in my meditation clothes and everything.
I push the doorbell again. My fingers tap against my thigh as I wait some more. Maybe he’s in the studio.
The memory of the loose handrail moving in my grip slams into me. What if he’s fallen?
I’m turning to bolt down the stairs towards the studio entrance when the door opens. Sam’s face peeks through and all the air rushes from my lungs. He’s safe. Thank fuck for that.
The door opens wider and Sam steps back so I can enter.
“Hey.” My gaze darts over the length of him, taking in the wildness of his eyes and the way his arms fold around his body. “Everything okay?”
Nodding, he closes and relocks the front door before we go into the kitchen.
He puts on the kettle and gets mugs from the cupboard, but he doesn’t speak and his limbs are fairly vibrating. I don’t like it. Walter got this way sometimes, right before he crashed. Usually with the help of some drug or other. I can’t imagine Sam taking something he shouldn’t, but I don’t know him that well. I don’t know what he does to cope when life gets raw.
“Are you okay?” Biting down on my bottom lip, I wait for him to answer. I should have stayed in closer contact this week, but after our last meeting I felt the need for some distance. A few text messages were exchanged. Nothing more. Fuck, I should have known better than to leave him alone like that.
Sam turns from the counter and glances at me out of the corner of his eye. A tiny smile quivers on his lips. “I did the things,” he says, quietly.
My eyebrows lift. “All of them?”
His head jerks in a nod.
With a delighted cry, I reach out with both arms and pull him into a hug. I shouldn’t. It’s unprofessional, and possibly unwanted. But the sudden need to hold him overwhelms everything.
He doesn’t hug me back. Instead, he curls in to me, tucking his arms alongside my body and turning his face in to the crook of my neck. When I adjust my hold, wrapping him up more securely, he sighs against my throat. As if this is exactly what he needs to be okay. The tremors gradually subside until, finally, he goes still.
