“Or they could choose something else that’s just as good.”
Brushing past him, I head back inside and into the walk-in. Somewhere I know I’m not watched. The last thing I want is to get into this discussion with Tucker. I feel like I’ll never win if I do.
Tears sting at my eyes, but I force them back. I can break down later when I’m alone. When I’m back at my place. Safely alone like I should be.
Feelings are too much. They stir up the things I thought I’d long buried, and my life is getting complicated. It’s hard to see the bright side of things. I’m becoming the version of myself I don’t like, and that’s the last thing I want.
Pulling myself together, I walk out and jump when Tucker stands against the wall across from me. “You scared me.”
And then I laugh. Hard. My heart about jumped out of my body, and I fall back against the door, sliding down to the floor as I continue to lose it.
It feels really good. Cathartic. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this. And with every moment that passes, I feel myself becoming lighter.
To make it even better, Tucker laughs with me. I’ve heard a snort before. Maybe a chuckle. But not a laugh. And I’d give anything to have him do it more often. It’s a beautiful sound.
“What’s going on?” Scotty asks, unable to keep from laughing himself as he looks between us.
I wipe my eyes, and my sides ache. “Oh, ow, my sides. I haven’t laughed this hard in…” Another burst comes out, and I struggle to pull myself up with one of the shelves beside me. “Okay, I’m good. I think.”
“I scared her, and she damn near jumped out of her skin,” Tucker says to Scotty, chuckling. “Then she lost it.”
“Which made you lose it. I get it. It’s like yawning.”
Scotty heads back out front, and I take deep breaths as I move to the table. Tucker traps me against it, his front to my back in the familiar position we seem to end up in the middle of the night, and I’m immediately wet. And wanting.
“You’re not safe at your place, Yellow Crayon. I don’t want you alone.”
“Tucker—”
“Let’s go out tonight.”
Out? “Where?”
“Seven Crows. What do you say?”
Like a date? “Um, okay.”
He’s off me as quickly as he was on, and I feel a chill where his body heat had warmed me. I don’t understand him. I have never met someone who is so hot one minute and so cold the next. A series of contradictions.
He wouldn’t shake my hand when we first met, but he comes to me in the middle of the night to connect with me in the most intimate of ways. There’s someone else he gets his pleasure from, but he doesn’t want to let me go.
“I just wish he’d tell me how he feels,” I mutter.
That would make this so much easier.
Chapter Eleven
Pacino
Four nights. Four nights, I’ve been with Phoebe, and for three of those nights, she’s faked it. Only that first night was a real orgasm. Even though she’s always ready and soaking wet when I walk into her room, she doesn’t actually cross the finish line.
It might be different if I didn’t know how she feels when she comes. She quickly learned to read my body, and she cries out when she knows I’m close. Pretends I’ve given her what she gave me, and it’s starting to bother me.
Phoebe’s the most sincere person I’ve ever met in my entire life, and it feels like she’s lying to me. And it bothers the shit out of me. Why it bothers me so much isn’t something I care to look into at this moment in time. I don’t feel the need for internal reflection.
But what’s starting to worry me is how she’s slowly becoming someone else. I thought her cheery demeanor was annoying at first. Really fucking annoying, actually, but I also felt drawn to it. Now, I can see her retreating into herself, and I miss the woman who tried to force donuts down my throat.
It’s hard not to question whether my darkness is rubbing off on her. That I’m killing her spirit.
