(Dis)content (Judgement of the Six #5)

Focusing on the sandwich, I considered the night ahead. Staying in for the evening wasn’t new to me. But usually I did it alone, and my idea of relaxing involved hitting the bag. I glanced at Carlos, eyed his multicolored face, and didn’t think he’d be up for that much fun. What exactly would two people do on an evening in? The first thought that came to mind had me blushing and turning away from him.

“Want to watch a movie?” I asked, walking over to the couch. I picked up the remote and surfed through the selection guide. “Oh, look. Werewolf in London is on.” Giving him a quick grin, I turned to that movie.

“I like your sense of humor,” he said, moving to sit beside me.

“Really? I can’t tell. You never let anything show.”

“Because you’re not ready.”

Sitting sideways, I gave him my full attention.

“Why did you say that?”

“I didn’t say it. You did.”

I recalled when I’d said those words—just before he’d been about to kiss me.

“Of course I’m not ready for that.” My face was never going to cool. “We barely know each other.”

“I disagree.”

“You think you know me?”

“I know that when you need a break from people, you become more snarky.”

“Snarky?”

“I read.”

I laughed.

“And,” he continued, “I know that when you start rolling your shoulders, someone’s about to face a beating. When you eat, you focus on one thing at a time until it’s gone. When you drink, you always lick the cup’s edge before setting it down.”

I did what?

“When you sleep, you curl on your side and tuck your hands under your cheek. When you’re upset, you say things you normally wouldn’t. When you fight, you hate hurting the other person...except the Urbat. You worry about the people around you and resent what you do to them. You think you need to be alone for the rest of your life and that scares you. You love stretchy clothes because you can move in them. You need to condition your hair in order to comb through it. You think makeup is a waste of time.”

“Stop. How can you possibly know all that?” He was right, of course, but how could he know?

“Because I pay attention, Isabelle. Because I care more than you can imagine.”

I stared at him for several heartbeats while everything he’d just said sank in.

“So, you do know me. And you think that makes us ready for what? Being engaged? Living happily ever after?”

“I think it makes us ready to see each other for what we really are.”

“And what are we?”

“Meant to be.”

His certainty thrilled and scared me.

“What if I don’t want what you want?”

“And what do you think I want?”

“Biting...running...mating.”

He smiled and shook his head.

“No, Isabelle. I just want you.”

My heart stumbled. Carlos was right, I was afraid of hurting him. My one attempt at a date stuck out in my mind. All it took was the thrill of a first touch, allowing myself to feel it, and I’d nearly killed the boy. Ethan had known the risk. He’d kissed me, but I’d never let myself feel anything. I couldn’t. It would have killed him.

But Carlos was different. I couldn’t pull emotions from him or push them into him. What would happen if I kissed him?

My pulse jumped as I considered it.

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” I said softly.

“I know you are. But you won’t.”

My imagination continued to explore the possibilities as my gaze drifted over his face, and my neck grew warm.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his pupils seemed a bit dilated.

“I’ve waited so long for that.”

“What?” I said, afraid I already knew the answer.

“Your desire.”

He stayed in his spot, his gaze devouring me. If he’d made a move toward me, I would have bolted or kicked him in the face. He was smart to wait me out.

“This is a stupid idea,” I said.

“It’s the best idea in the world.”

“What if I knock you out?”

“I’ll be the happiest, unconscious man ever.”

“Gah!” I turned my head away but didn’t get up. Why was I fighting this internal battle? Was I fighting what I felt for him, just for the sake of fighting? Didn’t I want to know something more than that? Didn’t I want to have someone I could spend my life with? I rubbed my face in frustration. I didn’t want someone; I wanted Carlos.

With a slow exhale, I swallowed hard then turned to look at him again. Yep, he was still there, watching me with the same lack of expression. My stomach twisted and flipped at the sight of him.

Wiping my hands on my leggings, I gathered my courage and moved to kneel beside him. I wasn’t imagining the change in his pupils because, as I stared, they grew larger. I inched toward him. My hands shook, and I felt lightheaded. What was I doing? How could I risk this? Him?

Carefully, I set my right hand on his left shoulder. He shuddered at the contact. My heart started to hammer, and I withdrew my hand.

In a quick move, he wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me up and over so I was straddling his lap. Both my hands rested on his shoulders as I stared down at him with wide eyes.

Despite the shaking, his expression, though intense, remained void of any emotion.

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