Just for a Little While

The dependency worried me the most.

But I didn’t get a chance to think about it because the latter hopeful part was answered, and the door flung open.

With the blink of an eye, Arabella’s small body crashed into mine, and I let go of the tension I’d been holding with my breath. I slid my palms around her back and buried myself in her hair, losing myself for the moment in the vanilla scent encompassing us.

For just a little while—just a second—I allowed myself to imagine picking her up and carrying her back to my bed to hold onto all night. As quickly as it came, I shoved it away.

Nonsense. Dangerous, pointless nonsense.

Slowly, I forced myself to relax my grip and ease back. Before I could, she squeezed me tight one more time, turning her mouth toward my ear.

“Goodnight, Will.”

Shivers raced down my spine from the graze of her breath on my skin.

“Goodnight, Arabella.”

And with that, I let go, turning back to my room without looking at her. I was too scared that if I met her eyes in that moment, it’d be like staring into a mirror and facing everything I didn’t want to face.

Like how holding back from her felt like a losing battle.

It didn’t matter.

I had to try.

Eight

Willem

“What the hell is that?”

“Wow, that was an impressive pitch for a man your size.”

“Arabella,” I growled this time.

“A dress?”

“I can see your underwear.”

She rolled her eyes like the teen she was. “It’s not my underwear. Although I guess it could be since I’m not wearing any under it.”

“Jesus Christ, save me.” It looked like a high-waisted bathing suit under a black sheer skirt with red dots all over it. “You look like you’re wearing a bikini.”

“It’s obviously not a bikini. It has sleeves.” She stretched her arms out, fully exposing her bare stomach. The sleeves she spoke of attached to something that looked like a strapless bra, made of the same sheer material as her skirt.

When I continued to gawk, she gave another eye roll and a sigh for good measure.

“Where are you going? School starts in two days.”

“I’m aware, Dad. That’s why a few of us from the bar are heading to Over the Rhine.”

“Where in OTR?

“I don’t know. Amber just said some bars.”

I rubbed a hand over my face, and she snickered, knowing it was a sure sign of my stress. “Just be careful. There’s a fine line between trendy and dangerous down there.”

“We’ll be fine. Xander is coming too and promised to keep an eye on us.”

I fucking bet he did. He probably planned to keep an extra close eye on Arabella.

“Call me if you need me.”

“Will do. Don’t wait up.”

And with a swoosh of fabric and red hair, she was gone.

It’d been two weeks since the night Arabella hugged me the first time, and we walked our own dangerous line every day.

On the nights she worked, I went in for a beer fifteen minutes before she got off and drove her home. In that time span, I’d grow more and more agitated watching Xander flirt with her. By the time she got off, I was ready to shut out the world and be alone.

We’d come home and almost as soon as we walked through the door, we were in each other’s arms, holding on tight, one of us whispering our promise.

Just for a little while.

When we finally let go, we’d get changed and meet on the couch to watch a movie or a travel show. Between commercials, we’d share stories of our own adventures. We’d start with a couple feet between us, but by the end, we’d made our way together. Her tucked close to my side.

We knew it was wrong, but it was as if we didn’t speak of it, we could ignore just how wrong it was.

Watching her walk out to go be with friends—especially Xander—had me on edge. It’d be the first night she wasn’t home with me, and while I wanted her to have her fun and be independent, I missed her.

Also, fucking Xander was there.

Just the thought of him dancing with her and possibly taking her home had jealousy burning up my throat.

After the third show of me staring at the screen, taking nothing in, I grabbed my phone. I considered calling Tessa to take my mind off of Arabella. Maybe I needed to remove the temptation or put my desires elsewhere to save us from the edge.

Before I opened my contacts, I opened Instagram. Just out of curiosity, I tapped Arabella’s profile and saw the red circle around her picture. Holding my breath, I tapped the image. First to come up was a meme. Next was a picture of her sitting on the iconic white buildings of Greece looking out over the water with the hashtag, Santorini Saturday. I almost gave up when her final story was a video of her dancing with one of the blondes from work. The camera shifted closer and bounced for a bit before flipping to selfie mode, and Xander’s face filled the screen, turning it on him coming up behind Arabella to dance with her.