“Because I’m afraid of dogs? No, that’s not the reason.”
“Could you fill me in? Because I’m at a bit of a loss. And I…” She swallows with difficulty and drops her eyes. “I didn’t like it.”
“I didn’t like the pity.” Rachel glances up with a flash of confusion. “When I told you about… things… and then you wanted to kiss me…”
Her laugh interrupts me. “Are you serious?” Her face falls when my expression doesn’t change. “Youareserious. That wasn’t pity.”
“Then what was it?” She shifts uncomfortably, and I’m reminded of her ankle. “Do you want to come in and sit down?”
She nods, and I hold the door open for her to come in. The house is quiet again and for once I’m self-conscious from the lack of sound. I imagine Rachel would have background noise, music to dance to, laughing as she moves across the floor as graceful as she slid into my arms.
She follows me into the living room, standing awkwardly, her gaze looking everywhere but where we slept on the floor.
I gesture for her to take a seat. “I have your… things,” I say awkwardly.
“Yeah.” She sounds just as uncomfortable, looks it as she perches on the edge of the couch. “I ran out of here pretty quick. I was planning on coming back, you know.”
I meet her eyes with a tiny shake of my head. I sit down beside her, tucking my hands between my knees.
Rachel takes a deep breath. “Yes, I kissed you because you told me about your troubles. But it definitely wasn’t because of pity. It was… it was kind of a turn-on.” She rolls her eyes.
“You’re serious?”
“Well, yeah. You opened up to me like that, and there’s no way I could have done that. I felt so close to you. It was like—I’ve never connected with someone like that before, at least not so quickly. I went from being annoyed to wanting to jump you really fast, and maybe I got confused. Plus, you’re really hot and I’ve been staring at your mouth every time I’ve seen you lately, wondering what it would taste like.” She leans forward and puts a hand on my chest, looking me straight in the eye. “There’s no, absolutely no pity happening. Please don’t think that. I should have woken you up when I left, but—” She shrugs. “Scared.”
“Of what?” How can this woman be scared of anything?
“You. Me. This big feeling in my chest. I don’t know if you noticed, but I started out not liking you. And, as you can maybe tell, that changed.”
I rub the back of my neck. “I actually didn’t notice,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?”
“I thought—well, you know what I thought.” I glance at Rachel, who, with a glare, now crosses her arms across her chest. “I guess I shouldn’t have thought that.”
“I guess not.”
“So, what now?”
“I made you a picture.” How could I have missed the folded piece of paper Rachel is holding? My mouth opens in amazement at the sketch she shows me. Of me... and her dog?
“That’s... You’re really talented.”
She shrugs. “I don’t expect you to be near Rusty, and I’ll do my best to keep him away from you, but I wanted to see how you looked together.” She shrugs again, her cheeks pink. “Because I like you both.”
“Okay.”
“I really like you.”
“Oh.” Words tumble through my head—things I should say, but I can’t form my thoughts. Because it feels like my chest has fireworks exploding, colours and sights and sounds as exciting as Rachel.
“That’s all you have to say?” she says with disgust. “I make a gesture and—I was going to sneak into your house, you know. I can do that. Biba told me not to.”
“Thank you, Biba. What exactly were you planning on doing in here?”
“I don’t know... find that blanket and... put it back on the floor.” She looks up through her lashes, so coy and sly and adorable that it feels like a hook snags my heart and gives it an enormous tug.
“Is that so?”
