By the time he came in my mouth. They were … my lips were blue, and I was shivering from head to toe, but I didn’t care because I wasn’t distracted by wasting water which meant I could focus on his face. I love the look he gives me when I do that to him. It’s painful gratitude … like he loves it, yet feels guiltily at the same time.
Eric rests his forehead on mine. “Can we be an us without twenty-four chapters of something that doesn’t matter?”
Life is what happens outside the bound story. Life isn’t the letters on the page, it’s what inspires those words.
His words echo in my mind.
“I’m not the guy who lets you walk away. So I’ll do whatever. I’ll write a five-star review for your favorite book. I’ll recite your favorite lines, but I won’t let fiction come between us.”
“Jesus …” I whisper, tearing my face from his hands. This sucks. This sucks so much. “You’re nearly perfect.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not.”
“You are.” I grunt a painful laugh. “This doesn’t have to be awkward … being neighbors … but it does have to be over.” My lips pull into a painful smile. “Bye, Eric.”
“Anna …”
I turn and carry the last of the bags to the stairs. And I don’t look back. He’s confused. I’m embarrassed and heartbroken. And it’s nobody’s fault. I wish that made it hurt a little less, but it doesn’t.
Chapter Nine
“Nine out of ten people really like your book choice.” Freya does her best to comfort me after I feed her the “I don’t want to talk about it” line for a solid week after ending things with Eric. “And one out of ten people really like it when you sit on their face.”
I flick a French fry at her face as we eat our favorite veggie burgers from the new restaurant across from the climbing gym. “Shut up.”
“Speaking of face-sitting … Adrian will be here tomorrow.”
“No. Way!” I find my first genuine smile since book club. “Should we start shopping for your wedding gown?”
“I hope so, but I want to give him the chance to have second thoughts in person. I mean … I can be a handful.”
“True.” I push my plate away, stuffed. “But I’m not worried about it and you shouldn’t be either.”
“Can I ask a favor?” She wipes her mouth with the paper napkin.
“Sure. Whatcha need?”
“I need you to not come home tomorrow night. I’ll pay for you to stay at a hotel. I’ll give you money for meals. I’ll do—”
“It’s fine.” I laugh. “Trust me, I don’t think I want to be in the next room when all the sexual tension explodes. I’ll go stay with my parents for the night. No need to pay for a hotel room when they live fifteen minutes from here.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“You could stay with a certain neighbor.”
“Nice try. I’d stay with Carson first.”
“I thought you said Carson has a new girlfriend.”
I shrug. “He does.”
She coughs. “You’d stay with a guy who you have sex with on the regular when he has a girlfriend? What if she were with him?”
“It’s not like I’d sleep in their bed with them. I’d stay on the couch.”
“And … that wouldn’t be weird?”
“We’re friends. And sometimes we have sex. We know there’s a line. We both respect that line.”
“You didn’t have a line with Eric?”
Carson entertains me. He’s quirky and outgoing. He likes needy women because he likes to feel needed. I don’t need him for anything beyond that sexual itch and he knows that.
“Eric consumed me.”
“Face-sitting. I know. Enough bragging about that.”
I fling another fry at her face. “Stop it.” I grin. “His confidence consumed me. It was so effortless. Things that shouldn’t be sexy—not even a little bit—he made them sexy.”
Like a mating dance.
“The problem was I liked him too much. I cared about his opinion too much. So as trivial as disagreeing about a book probably seems to everyone else, it mattered to me. And as hard as I tried to not let it bother me, it just did.”
I glance at my watch. “I have to get back to work. I’ll pack my bag tonight and you won’t see me until Tuesday.”
“I only asked for one night.”
Standing, I rest my hand on her hand and smile. “If he’s the one … you’ll need more than twenty-four hours.”
When I get back to work, Kenzie grabs my arm and pulls me into the office before I can get a word out of my mouth. “He’s here.”
“I’m going to need more details.” I pry her hand from my arm and set my purse under the desk.
“Eric Patrick Dempsey … your neighbor.”
“Okay. And?”
“He’s with another girl.”
“And?” I plop down into the desk chair and grab the mouse, clicking on the mail inbox.
“I thought he had a thing for you. What happened? I mean, he paid me fifty dollars to make you believe he was paying a thousand for you to spot him.”