He moved the towel down his chest and lower, only to discover the cold shower hadn’t helped. Friggin’ hell. He couldn’t face her with his dick as hard as wood. And taking care of the problem with her in the next room didn’t feel right.
Leaning against the sink, he tried to think about something that would make him go limp. The thought that tomorrow he would have to attend his mom’s birthday party did the trick. The fact that his mind took him to his mom, reminded him how he’d compared Cali to his mother in the beginning. He remembered thinking she was hiding something earlier when he’d shown up at the school after Garcia had called. Had it only been seeing him with Susan that had her upset? Or was it more?
He pulled his underwear and jeans off the towel rack where he’d hung them. His jeans weren’t zipped when he heard the knock on the hotel’s door.
“Don’t you dare open that,” he yelled and stepped out of the bathroom as he finished zipping.
She stood next to the door, her purse in her hands. Her eyes rounded. “It’s...our dinner.”
He stepped to the window and carefully slid the curtain back. At the sight of the young teenage boy, he relaxed, and called out. “Just a sec.” He reached in his back pocket for his wallet.
“Here.” She shook three twenties at him. “Take it.”
He took the money, opened the door, and exchanged the twenties for plastic bags full of food. Backing up, he set dinner on the dresser, and started pulling out the white boxes. When he looked up, he met her frown.
It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t have a shirt on. Frowning, he dropped the food and headed for the bathroom to finish getting dressed.
When he came back out, she sat on the bed, one of the boxes balanced on her lap. Her knife and fork were unwrapped and she had a napkin spread out on part of her lap. She glanced up and picked up her plastic silverware as if she’d been waiting for him before she began to eat. Another sign of her impeccable manners. He walked to the dresser, collected his own box, and sat on the other side of the bed.
When his weight shifted the mattress, a frown pulled at her mouth. He considered getting up and sitting in the chair, but that felt silly. He wasn’t going to attack her. Besides, he couldn’t sleep sitting up in a chair, and that’s exactly what he hoped to do after dinner.
Tense silence filled the room, and he could feel her trying to build a wall around herself.
He didn’t want a damn wall between them.
“How’s your dinner?” he asked.
“Good,” she said.
One word. And she didn’t even look at him. Yup, she was building a wall.
“How was your day?” he asked, determined to tear it down.
“Fine.”
One word.
“Did your principal talk to you about me showing up?”
“No.”
One word.
“Did you want to share entrees?” he asked.
She wrapped some pasta around the plastic fork, cut the few strings of pasta hanging off with her knife. “I’m fine.”
Two words.
But he needed more. “Why not?”
He saw her shoulders tightened, and while making her mad wasn’t his objective, sometimes that’s what it took to bring down someone’s wall.
She dropped her fork and knife and raised her eyes. “I’m not sure I know you well enough to eat after you,” she said in an oh-so-polite manner. While anger flashed in her blue eyes, obviously it wasn’t enough, because the wall she built between them still stood. Mentally, he could see her add another few bricks.
“That’s funny,” he said.
“What’s funny?” Her tone was tight enough to strangle someone.
“You worried about germs. It didn’t stop you from putting your tongue in my mouth in the parking lot.”
Her gorgeous mouth dropped open. “I didn’t do that.”
“Yes, you did.”
She opened her mouth to deny it and then closed it. “But you started it.”
“You didn’t tell me to stop.”
Her frown deepened. “I already told you that I’m not—”
“Having sex with me. Yeah, I know, I heard you the first time. But I’m not talking sex. I’m talking about sharing your Chicken Marsala. And maybe sharing a conversation. I hate the silent treatment. I don’t see any reason why we can’t be civil to each other.”
She looked down at her food and stared at her chicken. “I wasn’t giving you the silent treatment.” She paused. “Okay, maybe I was, but this is crazy.”
“What part of this is crazy?” he asked, wishing she’d look at him again.
“All of it.” She finally raised her eyes. He somehow sensed the wall she’d built was gone.
“It does feel crazy,” he said, meaning what was happening between them. He took a bite of his veal and the tomato sauce and cheese flavored his tongue.
She exhaled. “Here.” She handed him the box of food. “Let’s swap.”
“You sure?” He smiled.
“Yes.”
He couldn’t help but wonder if he could change her mind about the sex that easily.
He waited until she took a bite from his box before he started eating. They ate in silence, but it was no longer the tense, angry kind of silence.