I nod.“Better.Your parents still there?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You miss them?”
“Every day,” she admits.
Something hits her pretty eyes.Sadness, maybe?I’m not sure.I don’t like it, though.It’s unfamiliar and melancholy and unlike the woman I’ve grown accustomed to being around.
“You okay?”I murmur.The words feel foreign, almost as foreign as my feelings.Not that I’ve had much time to dissect them.The thing is, I don’t usually care about people.Their thoughts and feelings.Does it make me a dick?Yes.Have I ever cared that it makes me a dick?Not in the slightest.Until right now.
Why is she so sad?Why does a simple question about her parents turn her from being the shy but relatively happy and chipper girl I’ve come to know to being swallowed up with sadness?
Smoothing out her features, she peeks up at me and smiles.“Are you actually asking me about my feelings?”
“Are you surprised I’m curious about them?”
“About my feelings or my parents?”
“Both,” I answer.
She hesitates.“Then, yes to both.”
Well, damn.Her candor hits its mark, and I rub at my chest.“Ouch.”
“That came out harsher than I meant.”She looks around the apartment complex as if searching for a softer choice of words.“It’s just, you don’t exactly put on a persona of someone who really cares about feelings or parents or…anything really unless it has to do with money.”
“Double ouch.”I start to turn toward the car.“Guess I’ll be on my way.Nice knowing?—”
“Let me try again.”She reaches for my forearm, dragging her fingers from my elbow to my wrist, and for some reason I can’t explain, I let her.“The guy you are, or at least the guy I think you are, isn’t like that.”Her gaze falls to my mouth.“You’re not like that.”
The same tightness spreads through my chest as I study her.Part of me wants to walk away right now.To leave it.The conversation in general, my feelings, you name it.But the other part?Call me a sadist, but I’m curious.What she’ll say.How she views me.If it’ll gut me or make me feel like I’m worth more than my pretty face.I wet my lips.“And what am I like?”I murmur.
“You’re smart.”
My pride feeds off her compliment like an addict.“Good start.”
“And you care about your family.”
True.They’re the only thing that matters.Or at least, that’s what I’ve always thought until I met the girl in front of me.Now I’m starting to second guess myself, and it messes with my head.“Go on.”
“And you’re thoughtful.Maybe not to everyone,” she clarifies with a knowing glint, “but to the people you care about?To the people who mean something to you?You’re very thoughtful and perceptive with them.Honestly, I kind of think you might be so thoughtful that it’s burned you in the past, which is why you like to keep your barriers up.”
My lungs deflate, and I pull back, surprised.Well, fuck.I knew she saw more than she lets on, but hitting the nail on the head so fully?I’m uh, I’m speechless.What the hell do I say to something like that?Hey, so I’m not used to people knowing the way my messed-up mind works, so I don’t really know how to respond to this.Maybe we call it a night?Or…I shake my head, dispelling the urge to get the hell out of here when deep down, I know it’ll only fuck with my head more.Why?Because lately, anytime I’m not around June Withers, I’m wishing I was.It’s why I tracked her down tonight and why I insisted on driving her home despite my exploding personal life.So, why leave, only to wish I was right back here?At her building?Talking to her.Picking her brain.Hearing her insight, even when it makes me uncomfortable.
“Should’ve gone into psychology,” I muse.
“And lose all those free cleanings?”She gives me a pointed look that’s adorable as hell.
“Ah, yes.Gotta love a free cleaning,” I note.
“Exactly.”Crinkles form at the edges of her baby blues.“So, Mr.Harden.”She sobers.“How are you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”She sways a bit from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm.“How are you?”
She wants to know how I am?Talk about bringing up a conversation from left field.Now who’s struggling to keep up?“What do you mean?”I ask.
