It’s driving me crazy.
Why can’t I just be bold enough to ask him?
Because you’re terrified of the hurt it will cause when he rejects you again.
That little bite of reality is like a knife in my heart.
Because he will reject me again.
Honestly, I need to stop thinking about him altogether and just focus on my studies. That’s where my future lies, not in some silly fantasy I made up years ago about a man who kissed me once.
I push myself to the edge of the bed and stand up. My tummy is grumbling with hunger, but I’m reluctant to go downstairs for dinner.
I’m being childish, avoiding him. He has every right not to want to be with me. And after what he told me last night, he’s gone out of his way to protect me from his father. That’s something he never had to do. I should show more appreciation, now that I understand the whole picture.
He did that for Jess, and for me.
There is a soft side to him that I haven’t seen. He cares deeply for his sister.
But if I go and sit opposite him at the dinner table, my whole body is going to be on fire again, impossibly turned on, with no way to relieve the yearning desire already bubbling over inside me.
But I’m hungry. And I’m not going to be a rude guest in his home.
With heavy reluctance, I roam downstairs to the dining room. The chef is busy carrying dinner from the kitchen and setting up the table.
“Mr. Ilyin will be down shortly,” he smiles, gesturing for me to take my usual seat. I sit, regretting my decision the moment Kristopher walks in. He’s wearing a black suit, fresh out of a meeting, looking crisp and devilishly handsome.
“How has the studying been going? You’ve been very quiet today,” he says, pulling his chair back and taking a seat.
“It’s going well,” I mutter. “How has your day been?” I can barely look at him. Dammit, I wish he had kissed me.
“Busy,” he says curtly. When I steal a glance at him, he’s looking down at the plate of food Jeremey is dishing up.
“Thanks,” he nods at the chef.
“Enjoy,” Jeremey says, then winks at me. For no reason at all, my cheeks flush bright pink. Of course, that is the moment that Kris chooses to look at me, so in horror, they turn even more pink, glowing hot with embarrassment.
“It’s so hot in here,” I stammer, waving my hand in front of my face.
Kris narrows his eyes. “Do you want me to open a window?”
“No,” I giggle nervously. “I’ll be fine.” I grab my fork and start pushing the spaghetti around my plate.
The rest of dinner isn’t any less awkward as we eat in uncomfortable silence, and I keep looking at him, wishing we could be together. Wishing that things were different.
But it isn’t. It is what it is. And I’m a big girl. I can handle it.
***
The next morning, I’m relieved to be going to class. Kristopher has hired a bodyguard for me, so I can spend a little time out of the house and with my friends on campus and get a much-needed break from the man of my dreams.
I pick up my book bag and sling it over my shoulder with a little huff of effort. Heading downstairs, I find my bodyguard waiting at the front door. He immediately steps in and takes my bag from me. “I’ll take this to the car. I’ll be waiting there whenever you’re ready to leave.”
“Thank you,” I smile.
He pushes the front door open, and my heart jumps when I see another man standing outside on the front step.
He smirks at me, his pale gray eyes and square jaw reminding me of a Kristopher.
