But anything is better than letting the walls of my apartment close in on me in the long hours between midnight and dawn.
She tips her head and studies me, her eyes curious. Her lips are soft and curved, and I have a stupid desire to touch her there, to feel if they’re as soft as they look. Maybe I’ll make easy conversation by asking her what she uses on them. Because I'm trying to get in touch with my inner-metrosexual.
"You came all the way here to ask me if I wanted to walk home with you?"
I lift both eyebrows. That wasn't the response I was looking for, but I suppose it's better than go f*ck
yourself. "Um, yes?" She's laughing at me. I'm almost certain she's laughing at me. "Why is that so hard to believe?"
"You're a healthy, red blooded American male in an eligible dating market, and instead of being out looking for the future Mrs. Douglas, you're here to see if I want to walk home? Like there's no ulterior motive of trying to get me into bed?"
"Well, stalking is always a course of action for the try-to-get-you-into-bed thing." I honestly can't believe I just said that, but she laughs so maybe it wasn't a disaster. "But it's generally frowned upon, so hopefully I won't have to resort to that."
Her eyes sparkle a little and her lips are quirked at the edges. "That's really not funny."
"Not even a little bit?"
She cocks her head at me, and yes, that's a cautious smile on her full, dark lips. "Have you ever been stalked?"
"Yeah, actually I was once. This girl gave me her number, and like the dumb horny jackass that I was, I called her. Little did I know that she had a history of, ah, being a little clingy."
That's putting it nicely.
"Clingy?"
"I found her in my room, stark naked, one morning after I'd gone for a run. The guys on the hall were less than impressed when she ran down the hallway screaming that she couldn't live without me."
Abby's smiling now, the last trace of uneasiness drifting away. "You're making that up."
"Do I look like I'm making that up?"
"Mighty high opinion of yourself if you expect me to believe you have skinny little white girls throwing their naked bodies at you and you're upset by it," she says dryly.
"What can I say? I'm a great catch."
She shakes her head but she's smiling. "Did you really come here to walk me home?" Her words are quiet, sliding through the darkness to caress my skin with a promise of pleasures that I can no longer feel.
"Maybe I just wanted your number and was too afraid to ask for it outright."
She tips her chin in that way she does. The way that makes me think she sees through all of my bullshit and the lies that I've been hiding behind since I started trying to pretend to be a normal college student.
She surprises me and takes a single step into my space and cups my cheek. Her palm is warm and smooth against my jaw, her fingertips brush against my skin. "You're not like everyone else around here, are you?" she whispers.
"I like to think I blend in."
"You most assuredly do not blend in." Heavy words, laced with potential. I capture her hand beneath mine, holding her there. She's the softest thing I've touched in…I can't remember.
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I can barely breathe.
She's standing a little too close. I want to reach out and pull her against me and feel her softness surround me.
I want.
In a way I haven't wanted in a very long time.
I want the normalcy of this moment, the normalcy of life untouched by war and violence and hate and regrets.
I should let her go. Walk away and pretend that this was a mistake.
But the soft warmth of her skin draws me closer. I'm like a man coming in from the cold, seeing the warmth of a glowing fire.
A better man would walk away.
But I am not a better man.
Abby
My heart is pounding. I don't know how to do this. Things like this don't come easy to me. With Robert, everything was pretty rational. I remember being so glad I wasn't alone. That someone found me desirable.
It was a nice fantasy while it lasted.
"I think it's a good thing," I whisper. I can't say what made me touch him. What made me reach across that space and press my palm to his cheek.
But with Josh, nothing makes sense. He captures my hand and there is no pulling away.
There is a hesitation between us. Something tangible and real that keeps me from closing the gap.
And then he moves. The barest hint of movement. His lips brush against mine. His breath is warm on my skin, luring me closer to everything that is Josh.
I want in a way I've never wanted before. My heart pounds in my ears and everything I am is focused on Josh. The feel of his hand on mine. His scent is a mixture of spice and leather. It draws me closer, wrapping around me like a warm summer day.
This. This is what it must feel like to be wanted. To feel like you are the center of someone's entire universe.