His eyes dance. “I’ll pay you daily. Just give me your Venmo.”
I scoff. “You sound very nepo baby right now. Just throwing money around.”
He grins. “I know when to spend my money well.” Dawson then holds out his phone to me after clicking a few times. “Seriously, put in your handle.” I see the familiar blue of the Venmo app, but I don’t take his phone. I can already tell he doesn’t have the keyboard I’d need to help me, so I shake my head. I feel his gaze on me, and then he turns his phone toward himself. “Shit, Louis told me there is a keyboard app that helps. I’ll download it for next time.”
My mouth parts. “Next time?” I mutter. “Keyboard?”
I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
“Yeah, to make it easier for you. But it’s cool. Just tell me your handle.”
What is happening? I bite hard on the inside of my cheek as I hold my chin up. I am so stubborn, and I refuse tothink he cares. Believing that will only make me fall for him. “AmbrosiaMercer1,” I spit out.
I hear the cha-ching sound as my phone vibrates, but I don’t look at it. Instead, I hold his gaze. He tucks his phone into his pocket as he says, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with all the signs and letters. If I had known you needed a certain kind of text or audio, I would have done it a different way.”
“What?” I gasp, my mouth going dry.
“I’m not going to stop, but I don’t want to put you in a position where you are embarrassed because you can’t enjoy my advances. So, I’ll record my voice or video myself from this moment forward to make it easier for you.”
He knows—not that I’ve hidden it—but he knows, and he wants to make it better? I see no judgment in his eyes. No humor or teasing. He is looking at me the same way he has been since I found myself toe-to-toe with him. My heart is slamming into my ribs, practically begging for him, and all I can do is stare at him in astonishment. My lips quiver at the kindness in his words. He starts to blur as the tears burn my eyes, so I quickly look away. “How…why? What?”
“Does it matter how? All that matters is I know now, so I want to make sure you’re comfortable in our communication.”
“Communication?” I feel like a drunk parrot.
“Yeah. I’ll get the keyboard in case you need to use my phone, and like I said, I’ll make sure to send voice texts and videos.”
No one has ever said anything like that to me. I’m not ashamed of my diagnosis, so people know, but never has anyone just wanted to…support me. Well, except for my parents and my aunt.
What the hell?
“You want me to use your phone?”
He nods, looking at me like that’s a given. “Yeah, in case yours is dead or something.”
“You know that’s not normal.”
He chortles. “For someone who has something to hide. But I have nothing to hide.”
Stay strong, hold those walls up!“Why?” I gasp.
“Because I want you to feel comfortable with me.”
I blink. “But…I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
His eyes meet mine, such care and compassion in them as his lips curve into a full-out, dimpled smile. It’s not the grin he’d use to get in my pants. No, this smile is full of understanding and kindness.
It leaves me breathless.
“You’re special.”
Just two words, and they rock my core. I feel the walls around me crashing down, and I rush to hold them up because I know good and well I could fall for this man. Hard. And when he got what he wanted, he’d walk away without even a glance back at me. “Stay away from me.”
“I can’t,” he answers automatically. “Give me a chance.”
I shake my head and turn. “No.”
His smile stays in place, and his confidence is flowing off him in waves. “Fine. I’ll keep working for the chance.”
