Not that she knows that, of course. Can’t have her suspecting anything too soon.
I watch as the girls pack their things away, getting ready to head to class and I see the faraway look in Gracie’s eyes.
She’s not paying attention to what’s going on around her, too stuck in her own head to notice anything else.
She better be fucking thinking about me.
I pull out the burner phone I bought yesterday and send her a message asking if she misses me and wait, practically vibrating with anticipation for her to see the message.
She’s almost on autopilot as she checks it, and I can see the emotions running through her as she reads it.
Shock.
Apprehension.
Confusion.
Arousal.
Fear.
I’ve never enjoyed seeing her scared, but I’ve never seen her experience fear because ofme, and I have to say, it’s a good look on her.
She tucks her phone back in her pocket without replying, but that’s okay.
She won’t be able to help herself and she’ll text me back eventually.
Until then, I guess I’ll just have to keep watch over her and revel in the way she rereads the message over and over like I know she will.
Good luck forgetting about me, love, because I’m here to stay.
Isigh as I close my bedroom door behind me. The last hour has been torture, being around Gracie, being so damn close to her, and not being able to touch her.
There was a… situation with Cole and Lana, and once Lana left, Gracie only stuck around long enough to give her brother a talking to.
I was hoping she’d be here for longer, but I think something Cole said must have freaked her out, because when she left his room, she wasnothappy.
Maintaining the act around everyone is even harder now that I know what she feels like against me.
It took all of my strength to keep an appropriate distance between us and not stare at her the entire time she was here.
My girl isn’t stupid. I know that the moment she realizes just how fascinated I am with her asme, she’ll put the pieces together and figure out that it was me that night.
I don’t want that. Not yet, at least.
I need to warm her up a little to me first.
I wipe a hand down my face, wondering if doing all of this will lead me to the life that I want.
I don’t ever want to force her into anything she doesn’t want.
Well, I don’t want toforce her, force her.
She might need a little pushing in the right direction, and I’m not unprepared to give her a little shove, but I do still want her to want me and not just be stuck with me.
The idea is horrifying.
But I have faith. In myself. In her. In us.
