I Want It That Way - Aguirre Ann - Страница 62
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“Yeah.”
You used to be good at this. Be a normal person. Talk to her.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
She seemed pleased, happy about my interest. You have no clue, beautiful. It had been a while since I’d felt this snap of pure attraction.
“Nebraska, toward the South Dakota and Wyoming side, if that helps.”
“I’ve never met anyone from there.”
Mount Albion wasn’t a prestigious college, though its reputation wasn’t awful, either. There were a hundred other college towns like it in the Midwest. I never pictured myself being here this long. I’d always wanted to live in California, and I had a sister there who was always bugging me to visit. But traveling with Sam always sounded like too much trouble.
“I usually get ‘not in Nebraska anymore’ jokes, and then I have to decide if I’m going to remind them that’s Kansas or play along.”
“What do you usually do?” Her answer would reveal a glimpse of her personality, and I was more fascinated than I should be.
“Play along.”
So she’s on the sweet side, huh? That dovetailed with what I knew about her, particularly how good she was with Sam. Earlier, when she took his hand and led him away, my stomach knotted up. It was so fucking hard to watch him walk away, but she made it easier. Everything about Nadia promised, Don’t worry, you can trust me. Too bad I hadn’t just been burned by love; Diana had set me on fire and stomped on my ashes, and only now did it feel like life might be returning. When I could least afford such a beautiful distraction.
I realized she was waiting for me to answer. Duh, dumbfuck. That’s how conversation works. “You don’t like conflict, huh?”
“Not if it can be avoided. I’m not what you’d call pugnacious, no. But I like to think I don’t back off important issues. What about you?”
The question knocked me back a few figurative steps. Diana was always in the back of my head, reminding me how bad I’d screwed up. My shoulders locked, guilt and regret tightening around my neck like a noose. “No. I don’t. Even when I should.”
Nadia went quiet. She didn’t answer for so long that I thought for sure she’d picked up on my mood. Most people didn’t pay attention to the nuances. If I told them I was a grumpy asshole, they accepted it, and left me to wallow in my bad attitude.
But she didn’t ask what I meant; instead, her voice flowed over me like auditory expiation. “We all have things we’d do differently in hindsight.”
The tension flowed out with my next breath, leaving calm in its wake. I marveled at the sweetness of the feeling. “What is it about you?”
“Huh?”
For some reason, I blurted out the truth. “You make me...better. Calmer.”
Smooth.
“Like a sedative?” Amusement colored her reply.
God, her voice was sexy, low and husky, as if she hovered on the verge of confiding a dirty secret. That was part of why I couldn’t get enough of these stolen conversations, however unwise they might be.
I rushed to explain. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just...I’m worried pretty much all the time that I’m dropping the ball somewhere, about to face-plant, but when I come out here and hear your voice, everything backs off, like, ten steps. I can breathe again.”
Wow. Nadia went to my bloodstream like sodium pentothal, making me tell the unqualified truth. I hadn’t talked like this since...Diana. The comparison chilled my blood, even as I told myself, No big deal. It wasn’t normal for me to have no relationships whatsoever, and it was past time I made some new friends.
Equilibrium lasted only until Nadia murmured, “I’m glad you look forward to this as much as I do.” Sharp, searing desire flared to life, and I tried to smother it as she went on, “I wasn’t trying to intrude that first night.”
“I know. But the unit had been vacant for a while. So I guess I forgot I wasn’t alone anymore.” That came out way more intimate than I intended, and I ran in mental circles, trying to figure out how to retreat without sounding like a dipshit.
I’m dying here. I swear I had more game in high school.
But she answered lightly. Somehow, no matter what crazy shit I said, she made it okay. “Nope. You’re stuck with me now. By the way, we’re having a party tomorrow night, at least thirty people, and the way word gets around, it may be more like fifty. I hope it won’t be too loud for Sam to sleep.”
The conversational gambit put us back on platonic, neighborly territory. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Talking to Nadia was like ice-skating on a frozen pond. I could be racing along with the wind in my face and then, through my own idiocy, hit a hidden bump and dive headlong before I realized I was in danger of falling. What the hell were we talking about? I rubbed my head.
“Are you mad?”
“No, I’m problem-solving.” Plausible excuse. Better for her to think I was focused on Sam instead of reflecting on how bad she made me ache. “I’ll put him to bed with headphones on. Don’t worry, you’re not the only people with social lives around here, and most of them don’t check in with me.”
Her response was hesitant. “I’d invite you to come, but—”
“Another time,” I cut in. “My folks watch him the last weekend of the month. They tell me to get out, have fun, but I usually just sleep as much as I can.”
“And that’s the only time,” she muttered.
“I heard that.” Smirking, I shifted so I could see her better.
Maybe that was a mistake. She’d sat forward, as well, elbows on the balcony railing, and the moonlight found hollows at the base of her throat and between her breasts. Her shoulders were bare and smooth, gleaming until I couldn’t think of anything but touching her skin. Dark hair spilled down her back in tousled curls, and I imagined sinking my hands into them, kissing her until— Fuck. I shifted, hoping like hell that she couldn’t tell how hard I was. She licked her lips, which didn’t help.
“I wasn’t trying to slip it past you,” she said.
Slip—what? Oh. Yeah.
“That doesn’t seem like your style.”
“I only meant that you look tired. Not that you aren’t also—” Too bad she stopped talking. It seemed like the rest might be intriguing.
Against my better judgment, I prompted, “What?”
“Nothing.”
There was no way I could go to bed without finding out what she almost said; we had a definite moth-to-flame vibe going. If I kept circling, sooner or later, I’d catch fire. But she might be worth the pain.
Curious, I tried a coaxing tone. “Finish that sentence. Please, Nadia?”
She hesitated. “On one condition.”
Of course. There was no way she’d just answer without tying me up in codicils. I didn’t want to be disappointed; I hated that I was.
“What’s that?”
“Answer one question for me.”
“That depends on what it is.” I was already losing interest in this game. She probably wanted to hear why I was a single dad and what went wrong. Women often painted me as a tragic hero, and that pissed me off. I didn’t deserve bonus points for taking care of my own kid. That was why I preferred hooking up with girls who knew nothing about me, another reason I should stop talking to Nadia.
But she veered toward the unexpected. “Tell me what you dream of designing, once you’re a big-deal architect.”
“Oh.” I silently apologized for my cynical, shitty mental accusations, eating a peanut butter cup as I tried to decide if I should reply honestly. “It’s good to hear you say it so implicitly, like my success is assured. The road feels really long sometimes.”
“I can imagine.”
“I’ve been in school since I was eighteen, but after Sam was born, I cut down to part-time. Anyway, you didn’t ask to hear me whine.” I paused, doubt bashing me in the head. “Damn. I don’t know if I can answer this after all. I’ve never told anyone.”
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