Even when it’s time to pay, I try to keep my back to the rest of the store, but as luck would have it, as soon as I grab my receipt and push my cart past the end of the counter, Gravlin is standing right there with two small bags in his fist, watching me.
“Pardon me,” I mumble when he continues to block my path.
He nearly hops to the side to get out of the way. I avert my eyes and trudge forward. Even though I can’t see him, I can feel his presence looming behind me. I fluff out the back of my shirt, trying to seem casual, and debate leaving the full cart and just getting into my car to flee, but that’s questionable behavior, and I don’t need more people thinking I’m crazy.
You’ve got this. He’s not even talking to you, I tell myself and unzip my purse for my keys. My pill bottle is on the top, so I shove it deeper into my bag with shaking hands and try to find the fob for my car.
Once the slick thing is in my grip, I have a complete mind blank. I can’t remember where to tap to get the trunk open. I tap the middle to unlock the car, then mash my thumb from the bottom to the top, and my car chirps. After taking a deep breath and focusing, I touch the bottom of the fob twice, and the sound of the trunk releasing has me letting out an audible groan.
“Waylynn.”
I jump when he says my name. “Sorry,” I mutter, even though I don’t have a reason to.
I’m glad it’s bright out and I have a reason to shade my eyes with my hand when I turn to look at him. It helps so I’m not able to see his entire face, but it doesn’t stop me from seeing him lick his lips before he says, “Sorry about the other night. I… I just wanted… I… It came out wrong.”
I’m a little surprised. First, for the apology, and second, by the stammering. Memphis Gravlin does not seem like one to stumble over his words.
“Thank you for your apology.” I slowly lower my hand, thinking he’s going to walk away, but he doesn’t.
Memphis
She lowers her hand,and the bright sun allows me to see the tiny freckles along the tops of her cheeks and across her nose. She’s probably wondering why I’m just staring at her, but hell, I don’t know what to say, and I don’t want her to leave yet. I tried texting when I got home after the shitshow, but none of my messages showed up as delivered, so I’m pretty sure she blocked me. Oz confirmed my suspicion when he told me he tried to call her and got an unavailable message and the line disconnected before he could leave a message.
I bet he would have showed up at her house if he didn’t have an away game this weekend. I just got back to town myself and needed something to put in the microwave for dinner.
“Bates didn’t mean it either.” I feel the need to defend my oldest friend, since he was feeding off me.
“Apology accepted, Mr. Gravlin. You were right—I was being naïve.” I hate how she just addressed me even more formally than the first time she did it. Not only do I have a visceral reaction to it, like I want to put my hand around her throat and dare her to say it again while I run my tongue over her lips, but it also feels like she’s trying to put distance between us and remind me I’m her teacher, which I don’t like at all.
“My name is Memphis to you unless…unless we’re in class.” I manage not to sayunless I’m inside you, which was what I really wanted to tell her.
“I should probably load up.” She sways her hand to the side, gesturing to the open trunk and cart full of groceries.
“Here, I’ll help since I held you up.” I set my bags on the ground and grab several of hers to place in the spotless trunk. “Are you having a party?” I ask, just trying to make conversation. This is a lot of food for one person.
“No, sir,” she answers hurriedly, as if she thinks admitting it would get her in trouble. God damn, her words land right beneath my belt buckle. What the hell is that about? Still leaning over her trunk, I look up, and she’s right there, close enough that I can smell the soap she uses or whatever perfume she’s wearing. Her face is turned down, focusing on the bag she’s placing in the trunk, allowing her long, dark hair to obscure my view.
Without thinking, I reach over and tuck it behind her ear. She stills for a breath, then straightens before glancing at me. Her brows are slightly furrowed, making me think she’s confused, not that I blame her. She’s probably wondering what the hell I’m doing touching her.
“Do you have plans today?” I ask instead of explaining myself.
“I actually came to get a coffee.” She looks over at the back of another building. “But now I’m going to have to get home and find a place to put all this.” She pretends I didn’t make things awkward and continues putting the bags in the trunk. There are only a few left, and I still don’t want her to leave.
“Do you need a hand?” I offer.
“Um…” She averts her eyes from mine. I don’t take back my proposal because I want her to be the one to tell me no if she’s going to, but really, I’m hoping she will agree to let me go home with her.
“Aren’t you busy? I wouldn’t want to keep you. And what about your stuff?” She motions to my bags of microwave dinners sitting on the pavement.
“I don’t have anything going on.”
“Didn’t you tell me I shouldn’t invite people over?” she questions with genuine curiosity, but the moment I look into her eyes, she averts her gaze.
I touch my finger to her chin and lift it. “You shouldn’t invite anyoneelseover.”
“Only you?” she asks while staring right into my eyes. Her attention is feeding whatever she stoked inside me, and damn, I like the way she makes me feel.
“I can’t keep you all to myself, Oz would probably kill me,” I tell her honestly. Things between my brother and me have been tense for days, and it’s my fault. I’m the one who let how protective and possessive I feel about her make me into an idiot.
