Soren’s shoulder lifted, gesturing for me to correct him on it. The thing was, I didn’t have a better term for what had or was still going on between us. There hadn’t been a term created for a relationship like ours. If you could even call it a relationship.
“Come on. Mom throws down an insane meal, and I can promise you my brothers will be on the best behavior they’re capable of if you come around.” He tucked the pencil behind his ear. “She won’t feed them dessert if they aren’t.”
“I’ve got a late shoot this Thursday.” I shot him an apologetic smile as I crouched to toss the garbage in the actual garbage.
“If I give her one more excuse for why you can’t come, she’s going to think you either hate me or you hate them.” He sighed, sliding out of his sneakers. “You’ve got to give me something I can give her so when I tell her you can’t make it again this week, she doesn’t break down in tears.”
“Your mom’s not going to cry because I can’t make it to dinner.”
“She might. She really wants to meet you.”
Inhaling, I did a mental scan of my schedule next week. I didn’t actually have anything on Thursday night, and Soren’s mom had been extending the invite to have dinner at their place ever since I moved in. She did Thursday night dinners for the whole family, and even though Soren and his brothers couldn’t make it back every week, they made it as often as they could. When he didn’t have late practice or have to work a shift or have a test the next morning.
As I was tossing away the crumpled wads, I noticed a trend. “These are all phone numbers. Lots of phone numbers.” I’d already tossed half a dozen cocktail napkins and still had as many more to go.
“I get a bunch of them every shift.” His face read no big deal as he wandered into the kitchen.
“And you just toss them out?”
“What else am I supposed to do with them?”
“Call one of them.” I wadded the one with an XOXO below the number into a small ball before throwing it in the wastebasket.
“I’m not looking for some relationship with a girl I met working in a pub,” he said as he riffled through the cupboards, no doubts about what he was searching for. I swore he ate half a package of his beloved cookies every single night, yet he still looked like he could be a cover model for any fitness magazine out there.
“The kind of girls who stuff their phone number in some strange guy’s hand probably aren’t looking for a long-term commitment. At least not all of them.” I glared at the extra mile “Candy” had gone by scribbling a couple of hearts around her number.
“I’m not looking for that either.”
“No?”
“I’m into someone else,” he said through a mouthful of Nutter Butter.
My arm froze. Was he talking about me? The look he shot me from the kitchen left no question to it.
I made myself look away. “You’re not going to get that from her either.”
“I’m not looking for that from her. I’m looking for something else.”
“Not looking for that?” I arched an eyebrow at him as he roamed back into the room, a stack of cookies piled in his hand.
His eyes sparkled. “Okay, well, maybe I’d be down with that after she gave me something else first.”
When he held out his cache of cookies, I took one. It was weird, but Nutter Butters were growing on me.
“What something else?”
He crouched beside me, collecting the last few napkins and dropping them in the garbage. He stayed there for a moment after, waiting for me to look at him. “She knows it. She’s just not ready to say it out loud.”
I could only hold his eyes for a heartbeat. They were too intense. Suggesting too much. And he was too damn close for me to trust myself to not do something I was going to regret all over again.
“You’ve never called one of these girls?” I stood up, casually backing away a few steps. “Not once?”
His head shook as he rose. “Why settle?”
“Because you’re a guy.”
His half smile suggested he knew something I didn’t as he moved toward the table. “I’m a man. I know what I want. And I’m going to get it.”
My heel tapped the floor as I watched him settle in for another long night of studying. He went sans shirt again, as he’d been most every night since . . . that fateful one. I knew why he was doing it. To wear me down. As much as I wanted to believe no amount of bare skin could get to me, I knew better.
“Thursday night. If I agree, will you stop with the half-naked to fully-naked antics?”
Soren was in the middle of ripping out a piece of paper when he paused, looking as surprised by what I’d said as I was.
“I’ll stop,” he said quickly, waving at where I was glued to the wall away from sans-shirt Soren. “It didn’t seem to be working that great anyway.”
It was working. “And these phone numbers aren’t some attempt to push me into some jealous rage?” My toe tapped the side of the wastebasket.
“Give them a call. Find out for yourself.” He got back to what he was doing before dropping into his favorite chair. “You might claim you didn’t mean anything you said to me that night, but I meant every word. I’m not going anywhere.” He extended his arms like that was that. He wasn’t going anywhere and I could just believe him because he’d said it. If only trust was that simple.
“What if I do? What if I go somewhere?”
“No problem.” He shrugged. “I like the chase too. Stay, and I’ll wait. Or run, and I’ll follow. Either way, you’re not getting rid of me. Accept that, so you can rework this plan you’ve been using to try to push me away.” In his eyes was a fire—a challenge. “I’m not easily moved.”
My stomach was misbehaving from the things he was saying and the looks he was giving. “Soren—”
“Gotta hit the books now. Test in the morning.”
“Soren—”
“What?” His grin stretched wide as his eyes roamed me in the way a predator might assess its prey. “You didn’t like me trying to seduce you with my body. Let’s see how you fare against my mind.”
Of all the days to be running late, this wasn’t the one. It was Thursday night, and I’d told Soren I’d meet him at the apartment at five. It was five fifteen by the time I started busting up the stairs to the sixth floor.
“Soren! I’m ready to go, sorry I’m late!” I announced after unlocking the door and flying inside.
The apartment was still dark. Shuffling the bouquet of flowers into my other arm, I wrestled my phone from my purse to find I’d missed a text from him a few minutes ago. Running late. Meet me downstairs at 5:30?
After punching in a quick reply, I took advantage of those few minutes to gather up the garbage to take downstairs. Soren had said his mom was serving dinner at six, so I knew we’d be pushing it to make it in time. His practice must have run late, as seemed to be their habit. He was on the road this weekend and had heard rumors that some scouts might be in the stands, so he’d been putting in extra time at practice lately.