“Maybe. A little.” Hard to overcome all my insecurities in one night. “Also, I think Tim needs better boundaries.”
Reeti raised her brows. “You think?”
I smiled. “Pot calling the kettle black?” I had trouble saying no, too. Or asking for support. Or expressing how I felt or what I wanted. “But that’s why I recognize it in Tim. If he didn’t always rush to Charles’s rescue, it might be better for both of them.”
“For Tim, maybe. Charles is getting exactly what he wants out of their relationship.”
I sighed. “I guess they have to work it out for themselves.”
Reeti nudged my leg gently. “Look at you, setting boundaries. I’m proud of you.”
I rested my head against her shoulder, love flooding through me. I’d never had a girlfriend wait up for me before, to compare notes and confide in. For all her prying and teasing, Reeti was sensitive and caring. “Thanks, pal.”
“So, where did you leave things?”
“He said he’d call.”
“Which is what guys always say.”
Unfortunately true.
But maybe I should listen to Reeti’s mother, since I didn’t have one of my own. Have faith, trust in Tim’s good intentions, and maybe everything would work out.
“Vir calls you,” I pointed out.
“He does. He says we are at the point where our relationship needs to be about him and me and not about our families.”
“That’s awesome. When are you going to tell him?’
“Tell him what?”
I blinked. “That you want to be a teacher.”
“His family is so conservative.” She picked at a couch cushion.“What if he takes their side? What if he thinks I should work for my father?”
“If he wants you, if he loves you, he’ll support you. No matter what.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Wouldn’t you rather know?” I asked gently. Her elegant shoulders moved in a shrug. I covered her hand with mine. “Itisscary. I get it. But maybe you should trust him. Trust yourself. Don’t blind yourself to what could be because you’re afraid.”
Her eyes met mine. “Are you giving advice to me? Or to yourself?”
I laughed in acknowledgment. “Maybe... both?”
Just because I’d been wrong to trust Gray didn’t mean I was wrong about Tim.
—
He didn’t call.
He sent a text. My phone pinged as I was hopping the bus to class.Thank you for last night.Very stiff, very polite, very Tim. He’d signed with two smallx’s, the way the British do, virtual kisses as punctuation.
At least there were two. Not that I was trying to decode his feelings by countingx’s. Okay, maybe I was trying. I was totally trying.
I texted back.Thank YOU.
He could decide for himself whether I was thanking him for his support with Gray or the wonderful sex. (Both.) I signed with three kisses—sue me, I was an enthusiastic American—and then deleted one, becausexxxlooked porny.
