“I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells me and his words feel like a promise more than a threat.
As I nod and bite my lip, I give myself a little mental push. Now is my chance. Am I really going to let it pass me by?
Nerves hit me full force as I clear my throat and straighten my spine. I’m not going to cower when I’ve lived with the regret of blowing this man off for the last two weeks. I can let it continue to haunt me, or I can do something about it.
I’m normally one to let things haunt me. Honestly, I still think about things that happened in grade school and cringe; those thoughts always seem to come to me in the quietest of moments like when I’m trying to fall asleep. But just because that is my normal, doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.
This time I can do something about it. This time Ishoulddo something about it.
“I should have given you my number,” I blurt out my confession and ignore the way my face heats in response.
This is not the time to be a nervous wreck; it’s time to take responsibility and own what I did. And how I’ve felt about it since I stewed over it and wallowed in regret.
Joss’s lips tip up into a smile and my breath hitches. The man has a resting serious face, which makes him look intimidating in his security uniform.But there’s something about when he smiles. It makes him light up from the inside out and I can’t help but wonder how often he smiles and if I can make him do it more.
Not that I’ll be spending that much time with him, I’m sure, but still. The sentiment is a good one.
The man should laugh more. And I’ll stand by that.
I try to hold onto my confidence as I admit, “I’d like to give it to you or I’d like yours? I’m not really sure how this works now.” I tilt my head to the side and weakly offer my words like an olive branch, “I’d like a re-do?”
His eyes soften as he looks down at me and something flashes there. It might be desire. Or it could be indigestion? Like, is it attraction or gas? I need to fucking know these things and I have no idea.
I’m out of my depths here. An alarm siren starts to go off in my head. Am I not breathing again? Am I going down?
Abandon ship.
Abandon ship!
We’re going down.
Iceberg!
The weight of Joss’s hands as they come down on my shoulders grounds me and my focus snaps back into place. I find myself looking up into his dark eyes. I’d say the look he’s giving me is partly concern and mostly amusement.
That’s better than disgust with a side of ‘should I call someone from a sanitarium?’, but one with Victorian era vibes.
After swallowing hard, I press my lips together and look up at him. I’m not spiraling anymore, but I’m trying really hard not to babble right now and the silence isn’t helping. It’s also not helping that he hasn’t given me an answer.
Which is glaringly obvious to me.
“Syndal,” he rumbles, a husky edge to his voice which has me moments away from epically swooning, “can I get your number? I’d really like to take you out on a date, and I need to be able to finalize those details with you. I know you’ve got to be busy with another event in two weeks. If our date is me helping you, then I’m good with that.”
“What are you doing?”
The question comes out an octave higher than it should and a little on the shrill side. I wince; hard. But Joss holds steady. Resolute. Strong.
He doesn’t even blink.
“I’m giving us both a re-do.”
The words land between us.
Heavy and sincere.
“I’d really like that. But, uh,” I glance away from him before courage I’ve never felt before wells up inside of me and I look back into his brown eyes, “do you think we can do more than stay in with you helping me?”
Joss steps closer while his eyebrows pull together. The confusion on his face is kind of adorable, and I melt at the way he is shielding me from everyone around us. And we certainly aren’t alone.
