So instead, he growled out, “Let’s go for that walk.”
She stiffened and looked at him warily. “We just kissed, and now you want to go for a walk?”
He couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“Shouldn’t we talk about what just happened?”
“Can we do it later?”
She blinked a couple of times, studying him, and he wanted to shrink under her scrutiny. Even though he was wearing his regular stuff today—a vintage gas station attendant’s short-sleeved shirt, with the name Roger embroidered on the white patch over the pocket, patchwork cargo shorts, and hi-tops, he still felt just as vulnerable as he had the other day, when he’d dressed in that preppy crap for her.
He fought the urge to turn away from her.
“Okay. We can do it later.” She kept staring at him, though, not moving. “But only if you’ll answer something for me first.”
Shit. He should walk away now. This felt like a mistake. “What do you want to know?”
“You want me. But do you even like me?”
He blew out a relieved breath. Out of all the things she could have asked, this one was easy.
Or was it? In his mind, it was so easy to say. Yes, I like you. I think you’re incredible, to the point where I want you to be everything that I know you already are.
But in reality…
That sounded crazy.
He swallowed hard. Her face started to fall, like she thought his answer was going to be no and he was taking his time to soften the blow. “No!” he blurted, meaning, No, don’t get upset, but then her face absolutely crumpled, and he realized two things:
One, that he was a total fucking dumbass and two, that he hated that he’d caused her even a fraction of a second of pain. And that…
Well. That was more than he’d bargained for. Despite his effort to keep her out of his feelings, she’d somehow gotten under his skin. He was in trouble.
“I mean I do like you. I do. I just—” He reached out and hauled her against him, hugging her close. She was stiff for a second, but as soon as his arms went around her, she relaxed against his body, and her hands went around his back, coming to rest on his shoulder blades.
It felt so good.
“I like you, Minh.” He said it into her hair, which smelled like roses. “I want you to like me too. But more importantly, I want you to like yourself and what you’re capable of. That piece you were playing when I came with Daria to see your apartment… I know you wrote that. I know what’s inside of you, and I like it so much.”
She didn’t say anything, just rested in his arms for a moment longer before pulling away.
She was frowning. Why was she frowning? Had he said something wrong?
“Fine. You answered my question. Now let’s go.” She said it so sharply that it was almost a shout, but as they started walking, she slipped her hand in his.
He felt like fucking cheering.
Chapter Nine
She kissed Chris.
It wasn’t actually the way it had felt—like her entire body was on fire and he was both the cause and the cure—that had shocked her. Sure, she’d never felt anything like that before. Rather, what had surprised her the most was that the same dissonant notes, beautiful in their discord, that had ricocheted through her mind the first night they’d met, rang again in her mind as she’d kissed him, and in that moment it had felt like the greatest sound she’d ever heard.
It subscribed to none of the rules of “good” music that she’d learned growing up, and yet…she never felt as good as when she heard it. When he brought out that music in her.
Was that who Chris was to her? Appealing, but wrong?
He never seemed to do what she expected, but he wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t fired her. He hadn’t pushed himself on her, despite the lust she’d seen on his face. She was the one who had made the first move.
But it made no sense. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. She was supposed to find someone who fit all her requirements and would never make her want to do something crazy.
She still wasn’t sure whether he liked her. He’d said no, then he’d said yes, then he’d said he liked the version of her that he knew was inside. The one who had written that wild music that she never shared with anyone.
The wild music that he inspired in her.
The confusion bubbled out of her, making her stop just when they reached the waterfront and blurt out, “I still don’t understand. Do you like me or not? For me. Not the me I can be, but for the me I am.” She sighed and shrugged. “Now I’m the one being confusing.”