What?
It can’t be helped.
“Me too.”
His hands are still on my waist. I feel them slide around me until they’re half on my back, half on my upper butt. He tugs me closer to the edge of the seat, almost off, so I place my hands on his shoulders for support. Before I know it, Alec’s got me off the seat and in his arms. My feet are dangling off the ground, so I wrap my arms tightly around him. Right now, his face is next to mine, tucked in above my shoulder. When he doesn’t make a move to lower me to the ground, I clear my throat. “Um, Alec?”
“Shh,” he says into my ear. “Give me a second.” His arms tighten around me, and I realize what this is. It’s the best hug I’ve ever gotten. Hands down. I wrap my arms around him tighter and hug him back. “I’m really glad you’re here, Matilda.”
Wow, I’m not sure what any of this means, but I like it. “Me too, Alec.”
“If I don’t tell you that every day, remind me, will ya?”
That makes me laugh. “Will do.”
His arms loosen, and I slowly move down his body. When our faces pass one another, he stops again. Our lips are literally an inch apart from each other’s. Same with our eyes, but the lips are the most important part of this whole thing.
Is he going to kiss me? Is Kimmy going to be right after all?
Answer? No. Alec smiles at me as he lowers me to the ground. Then he does the unthinkable. He kisses my forehead.
Myforehead.
It’s official. Kimmy is w-r-o-n-g, wrong.
Once that’s over, I realize I’m covered in goose bumps from head to toe. Probably due to the embarrassment from him holding me up. I’m no featherweight. It certainly wasn’t from the forehead kiss; although, his lips did make my head tingle.
Don’t laugh.
It’s true.
“Let me grab your bag, and we’ll head upstairs.” I turn and look up, but what I’m really doing is attempting to get myself under control. Before he shuts the truck door, I reach in and grab my flowers and purse. “My place isn’t fancy.”
“Well, that’s disappointing.” I laugh. “I expected you to live in a mansion like J.R. Ewing.”
“Wow. You went there, didn’t you?”
I nod.
“Have you ever watched that show? Dallas?” he asks.
“Of course. Reruns are my jam.”
“I thought old movies were your jam.”
“Those two. You know”—I stop walking and act sassy with my hand on my hip—“you can have more than one jam.”
“Ah, I see.” My goodness, he’s got a pretty smile. “Always learning new things from you, Matilda.”
“Glad I can help.” He leads me up to his apartment, and I’m a little shocked. It doesn’t look like it belongs in this old building. “This is nice.”
“Thanks.”
I sniff discretely because I smell paint, and when I look at the floor, I notice there’s new carpet. I scan his living room. His furniture looks new too. His sofa looks big and comfy, like you would sit down and not want to get back up. Above the couch is a large, framed photograph of Chicago. I know this thanks to the image of the Bean, a famous sculpture in the heart of the city.
“This apartment is so nice, Alec.” I’m repeating myself, but it can’t be helped. Walking into the kitchen, the smell of fresh paint is evident here too. He doesn’t have a lot of cupboard or counter space, but that does matter. One person doesn’t need a lot of room to cook. “Are those new appliances?”
“Yeah. The management company has been doing some updates. It was my turn.”
