“Just, promise you won’t avoid me. I’ll give you some space if you need it, but try not to overanalyze, okay? Let’s just let this...unfold. Let’s see where it goes.”
His voice is soothing and hopeful, but I also hear a hidden plea woven into his words. Anyone else might have missed it, but just like he knows me, I know him. Kelley is full of promise with a hint of fear. Same.
“Okay,” I agree.
“Yeah?”
I nod, and take a step back, giving him a small smile. “Yeah.”
I head toward the door. “We should go. Bailey is waiting for me.” He nods back and grins. All of the ways this could go wrong, how feeling like this for Kelley is not at all what I’d planned, claw at my mind, but I shove them back. I box them up. I’ll revisit them later. With a pros/cons list, probably.
Right now, I just want to drift on this euphoria some more.
“You still gonna come over tomorrow night? We can watch one of those murder shows you like.”
“I’ll be there,” I answer, and smile bigger.
When we leave the storeroom and head back toward the main bar, Calvin Harris and Dua Lipa’s “One Kiss” is blasting from the speakers.
I glance at him and he looks back, and we both break out in shy, knowing smiles.
And I’m floating again.
Good grief.
13
Saturday morning, I hit the campus gym hard. I have way too much fucking excitement and tension built up so heavily in my body that I might combust. My muscles are tight as a bow string, my brain working overtime.
I know Ivy, and I know she’s probably already created at least two pros/cons lists and possibly a complicated flow chart or Venn diagram to try and analyze what’s happened between us over the last few days. It’s who she is. It’s how her brilliant mind works, and fuck, I find it so damn sexy, but I’m nervous as hell. I just have to hope that whatever she determines works in my favor. Because after that kiss...
After that kiss, I’m sprung harder than ever for Ivy Rivenbark.
I’ve replayed the entire scene nearly a hundred times since she left the bar last night. The way her blue eyes sparkled with desire, the way her tiny hands pressed into my chest, fisting my shirt when I kicked up the heat of our kiss. And those whimpers? Fuck. They’ve been on repeat inside my head. I jerked my dick last night to the memory of those whimpers, and once again this morning. I’ll probably have to do it at least twice more before she comes over tonight.
If she comes over.
Ivy’s not one to run from her problems. She studies them until she knows how to best them, and then she faces them head on. She’s fucking fierce and fearless.
But her feelings?
Yeah, she fucking avoids those until she’s ready to feel them. Anything that makes her feel vulnerable or confused, she boxes it up and ignores it until she feels prepared to deal with it. Anything that makes her feel too much, she packs away until she can face it with a steady, clear head. She’s been like that for as long as I’ve known her—the product of having to grow up too fast, the responsibility of a sibling to help raise and a house to help run. I admire the way Ivy handles things, but I’m fucking worried.
I know she must be feeling overwhelmed.
Hell, I’m feeling overwhelmed, and I’ve been in love with her for years. This is all brand-new and unfamiliar for her.
I just hope it’s not too much that she decides to box us up and avoid it until she’s ready.
I’ll wait. I said I would give her the space she needs, and I mean it. I’ll respect any decision she comes to. But damn it, I really, really want it to work out in my favor.
My strength training day is supposed to be lower body and core, but I throw in some upper body when the rest isn’t succeeding in calming my nerves. I was hoping to talk to Jesse this morning, but he’s got a shift at the hospital and probably won’t be back until later tonight. So, it’s just me, the squat rack, and however many bicycle crunches I can do before my abs turn to jelly and leak out of my pores.
After the gym, I hit the grocery store. If Ivy is coming over tonight, I’m going to be prepared. It’s my weekend to cook, so I’m going to make her favorite: chicken carbonara. I’m not so much trying to impress her as I am trying to make sure she’s comfortable. If she’s overwhelmed and confused by the new, uncharted territory we’ve found ourselves in, I’m going to do my best to make things seem...normal? Familiar? Fuck, I don’t know. I just don’t want to freak her out.
“Hey, stranger,” Cassie calls from the end of the pasta aisle where I’m grabbing a box of pasta.
“What’s up, Cassie?” I ask with an awkward smile. I’m not exactly sure what to expect from this conversation. While last night was not a date, I’m pretty sure Cassie had some hopes for how the evening would go, and I’m certain none of them included me disappearing for twenty minutes with Ivy and then leaving immediately after. I’ve never led Cassie on, but I understand first-hand the pains of unrequited affections. In short, they fucking suck.