Free Falling (Book Three: Exposed)

“What are you doing here?” I asked myself aloud. My timing couldn’t have been any worse, and I was so caught up that I couldn’t even figure out what to do next. This morning, waking up beside Sam, and with all the commotion with Angel finding us, I’d somehow managed to escape the questions, fears, and uncertainty that eventually chased me down.

I knew I shouldn’t have left her my number. I knew I shouldn’t have picked up when she called that first time. I knew I shouldn’t have invited her out. I knew I shouldn’t have wanted her as badly as I did when I showed up at her door. However, I was guilty of all these things and I was pretty sure that I’d stepped onto a slippery slope of making countless other questionable decisions because that’s what she does to me. I feel undone when she’s near me, or even just thinking about her. For that reason, I passed on the idea to leave her a note while she showered, letting her know that I’d gone home and that we shouldn’t talk anymore. Instead, when she came out of the bathroom wearing a robe, I was still standing there at the window.

“Nothing on TV you wanted to watch?” she asked. When I turned around, she was clutching her shower cap and standing there looking as sweet an innocent as I’d ever seen her.

How am I supposed to walk away from her? I knew that I should, but…

On cue, she smiled and melted my heart just a little more. “Everything okay?” she asked.

The truth? No, everything was the opposite of okay. I was standing in the wrong apartment, having feelings for the wrong woman. “Everything’s fine,” I lied.

The flicker in her eyes led me to believe that she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t speak on it. Her expression dimmed a little and she pulled her robe tighter. “Well…I’m gonna go get dressed,” she said sheepishly. “Be right back.”

I nodded and waited until I was alone again to turn back toward the window and finish my thought, hoping to extinguish the last bit of guilt before she returned – a task that I knew was impossible before I even tried.

This time when she came back into the room, I managed to hide the distress a little better than before. She sat beside me on the couch wearing a pair of Sponge-Bob pajama pants and a gray fitted t-shirt that showed where her robe peeked open at the top. It dawned on me that she came out wearing layers to let me know she didn’t want to have sex, but I was already two steps ahead of her. My mind was hazy enough. All sleeping with her would do was further distort my thoughts and make it more difficult to see how I was supposed to fix this.

“Did you and Angel have fun today?” I asked when the silence between Sam and me persisted.

She perked up and looked relieved that I’d said something. “Yeah! We did actually. Got my phone fixed,” she added with a smile, retrieving her cell from the pocket of her robe. “Which reminds me; thank you for covering it and I have your change in my purse.”

I waved her off and thought back to the night before, remembering the raw passion that accounted for the broken case in the first place. And just that easily, I wanted her, fully prepared to go back on the resolution I’d just made not to touch her merely seconds before. Shaking my head at how weak she made me, I looked away.

“Well…thanks,” Sam interjected shyly.

The silence returned and I could practically feel her insecurities multiplying. I racked my brain for something else to say. “I talked to Terrell today,” I announced.

She smiled again. “For real? What’d he say?”

“He was out shopping with Maisha.”

Sam made an ‘uh-oh’ face. “Poor guy. That woman can shop. Trust me; I know.”

I laughed and felt some of the tension leave the room. “So I’ve heard.”

Sam shook her head at a memory and then met my gaze. “Did you tell him?” she asked somewhat nervously. “About us, I mean.” She laughed. “Not about last night…but…you know…that we’ve been in touch.”

With a smile, I nodded. “Yeah I told him.”

She narrowed her eyes at me and a laugh slipped out. “You told him everything didn’t you?”

Her accusation made me laugh, which gave her the information she was prying for. “Maybe.”

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