The Weight of Words (The WORDS Series) (31 page)

“I really think you should kiss me,” I whispered. There was absolutely nothing I wanted more in that moment than for his lips to be against mine. I couldn’t allow myself to believe he wasn’t going to kiss me until May.

He put his hands on his hips, grimaced, and looked away. “That is the worst possible thing I could do right now.”

“Oh, really? How do you figure that?”

He sighed deeply. “You’re familiar with the term Achilles’ heel?”

“Uh-huh.” I ran my fingertips along his jawline.

“Well, let’s say the first hint of your tongue against mine, and you’d be over my shoulder and upstairs in one of those king-sized beds faster than you can say ‘room service.’”

The mere mention of our tongues touching made me ache.

I moved my hand around to the nape of his neck and leaned forward, running my lips across his cheek. Kissing was his biggest weakness? Good Lord! How hot was that?

“I probably shouldn’t have told you that,” he said, his breath tickling my cheek.

“Probably not. It’s not the best deterrent…”

I parted my lips and darted my tongue gently along his jaw, something I’d wanted to do for a mighty long time. He clasped the frame of the car door behind my shoulders.

“What are you trying to do to me?” he moaned, thrusting his hips forward and rubbing against me firmly.

“I like to think of it as research,” I said.

I ran my hands up into his unbelievably soft hair, whimpering as my hands slipped through his locks.

He laughed gently. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. I think I need to take you home so you can have a cold shower.”

I grabbed his belt loops, pulling him against me. What I really wanted to do was grope him through his pants, but through some miracle I restrained myself.

“
Who
needs the cold shower?” I asked huskily, grinding against him.

“Ah, you women, always taking advantage of us poor men and our telltale physiological responses,” he said with a strained chuckle.

“I believe I’m having a rather strong physiological response myself,” I admitted, a naughty glint in my eye. “Care to do a little research of your own?”

He moaned and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Fuck, Aubrey, you will definitely be the death of me.” Taking a step back, he reached behind me to pinch my ass before pulling open the passenger side door. Cheeky bastard. “In the car, young lady,” he ordered.

“Must I?” I pouted.

“Absolutely. If I don’t get you home right now, something disastrous is bound to happen.”

I looked at him demurely and batted my eyelashes. “Yes, sir.”

I climbed into the car, smiling as I saw him adjust himself in his pants before getting in beside me. He started the car and grasped the steering wheel tightly, leaning against the headrest and taking a few deep, shaky breaths.

“This is madness,” he said, shaking his head and winking at me. “Come on. Let’s get you back.”

While he drove, I tried to gain control of my own breathing. Three quick right turns and a mere five minutes later, we were pulling up to the curb on Charles Street. My mood deflated in an instant.

“Is this okay? Not too far to walk?” he asked, looking up the street to the residence buildings two blocks away.

“Sure, this’ll be fine. Thanks for lunch, Daniel. I had an amazing afternoon.” I didn’t want to go. I could quite happily have spent the rest of the day with him, and the night…

He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I did too. And you’re welcome. I wish we could spend more time together, but I really need to get some things done, and I meant what I said earlier. The longer we spend together, the weaker my resolve gets. I feel like I need to step away to regain my perspective, you know?”

“I understand completely.” Did I ever. His proximity intoxicated me.

“But I’ll see you tomorrow night?” he said. “Is it okay if I call you tomorrow so we can sort out plans?”

“Of course it’s okay. You don’t have to ask permission.” I gathered up my purse and pulled on the door handle.

“Sorry I can’t walk you there.” He glanced out at the people walking by on the sidewalk. “But—”

“No, that’s fine. You stay put,” I said, opening the door and stepping out. Before I closed the door, I leaned back inside. “About tomorrow, can I make a request?”

“Fire away.”

“Can you wear the jeans with the hole in the knee?”

He laughed. “What? Those ratty old things? Are you serious?”

“Completely. Best wardrobe malfunction I’ve ever seen,” I said, staring longingly at his legs.

“If you promise to look at me like that all night, then hell yes.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Oh, and, Daniel?”

“Yes, Aubrey?”

“Don’t shave.”

Chapter 20

A Fool for You

Viola: …I am not what I am.
Olivia: I would you were as I would have you be!
Viola: Would it be better, madam, than I am?
I wish it might, for now I am your fool.
(
Twelfth Night
, Act III, Scene 1)

E
ARLY
S
ATURDAY
A
FTERNOON
, Matt and I were having lunch and getting caught up. As we talked, my mind wandered to the events of the previous day. Daniel clutching my pinkie during the memorial service. Daniel licking my fingers at the restaurant. Daniel pushing me against the door of his car…

I tried to concentrate on what Matt was saying and vaguely caught him telling me something about a film he was studying for one of his courses when my phone rang. I leaped up to grab it.

“Hello?”

“Aubrey?”

“Daniel!” I exclaimed.

Matt looked at me curiously. Shit, what was I doing?

“You sound surprised to hear from me. Is this a bad time?” Daniel asked.

“No, of course not. Give me a sec.” I turned to Matt and pointed at the dishes on the table. “Leave this stuff, Matt. I’ll help you clean up after, okay?” Matt waved me off and continued eating. “I need to grab my notes, Daniel. Hang on,” I said, retreating to my room and closing the door behind me.

I breathed deeply, inexplicably winded. Why was I so excited to be talking to him on the phone? It was like I’d been transported back in time to grade ten.

“Hey, now I can talk.”

“Are you in the middle of something? Am I interrupting?”

“No, no, Matt and I were having lunch,” I explained. “I mentioned my notes because I needed an excuse to get out of the room. I thought that might justify your call, too.”

There was a momentary silence. Was he annoyed that I’d blurted his name out?

“I can’t believe I let your name slip in front of Matt. I was caught off guard. I’m sorry.” I paused, waiting for an answer. “Daniel, are you still there?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m still here,” he replied. “No need to apologize for that. I don’t think it’s a big deal.” After a few seconds he sighed, and then his tone changed. “I’m sorry. The thought of you two together over there makes me frigging crazy.”

I couldn’t believe he was still harping on this.

“You’ve got to let it go. He’s my roommate. End of story. Thinking you don’t trust me kind of hurts.” I sat on the end of my bed and picked at a piece of lint on my yoga pants.

“It’s not you I’m worried about, poppet,” he said. “I saw the way he looked at you that night a few weeks ago. I
know
that look, but it’s not just that. I wish I could hang out with you all day like he does, doing mundane things like watching TV and eating lunch.”

“Are you saying my life is mundane?”

“You know what I mean. Don’t be difficult.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” I said, flopping onto my back. “Any time you want to invite me over to the condo to watch TV, I’ll be there in a heartbeat, you know that. Hell, I’d come over and watch paint dry with you.”

“You, young lady, are like a dog with a bone.” He laughed.

The tension was broken.

“Wouldn’t I be more like a dog
without a bone?”
I joked.

He cleared his throat. “No comment. And wet paint or no, you know I can’t have you over here,” he said, his tone firm.

Sensible Daniel was back and in full control of the situation once more.

“Yes, dear,” I said with an exasperated sigh.

“‘Dear’? Oh, fuck. Call me anything, but please don’t call me ‘dear,’” he said. I could almost hear him cringing. “That’s my mom and dad all over.”

“Dear” wasn’t generally part of my repertoire, but his reaction was enough to make me consider using the term more often just to push his buttons.

“Sorry, sweet knees. I didn’t mean to make you feel like an old man,” I said innocently. “Sure, you’ve got years on me and all, but—”

“Hey, easy now,” he warned. “Don’t be giving me a complex. I already have enough of those.” He paused for a second. “Did you call me ‘sweet knees’?”

“Oh, come on. You’ve gotta give me that one.”

“It’s a little too close to sweet
cheeks
for my liking,” he said.

“Dude, let it go,
please
. Now tell me,” I said, eager to lighten the tone and move the conversation away from Matt and my pet names for him, “am I going to get a look at one of those sweet knees tonight?”

Daniel sighed again. “Don’t worry. Mr. Ratty Pants will be making an appearance this evening.”

“Mr. Ratty Pants. I like that.” I rolled onto my stomach. “Almost as good as Dr. Hobo.”

“Who’s Dr. Hobo?”

“You, of course. That’s what I started calling you after seeing a few of your wardrobe choices.”

He chuckled, which was a relief. I was worried he’d think me a total moron.

“But when you showed up at your parents’ place last week, looking like a runway model, I decided to give your non-classroom alter-ego a name, too,” I added.

“Huh, a runway model, eh?” he said. “And what, may I ask, was this other name?”

I could hear the smile in his voice; his mood seemed to be lifting.

I cleared my throat. “Um, Mr.
GQ
,” I mumbled.

This time he laughed in that uncontrolled giggly way I loved. It was so great to hear him sounding like himself again. “Are you serious?” he said.

“Yeah, well, that’s nothing compared to Julie’s name for you.”

“Oh, please, do tell,” he begged, still laughing.

“Don’t you dare tell her I told you.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Well, she calls you…Mr. Shmexy.”

“Jesus, do I even want to know what the two of you have been talking about for the last month?”

“Probably not. And even if you did, I don’t think I’d tell you. Pretty soon someone’s gonna need to take a large hatpin to your over-sized ego,” I said.

“Hey, everyone’s ego needs stroking once in a while.” He was all seriousness now.

“After the week we’ve had, something else needs some stroking too, don’t you think?”

“All right, missy, get your ass over here right now! I’m painting a wall as we speak!” he said, a tone of mock urgency in his voice.

“You keep painting. I’ll be there in fifty-four days,” I said casually.

“Goddamn that calendar. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.” He sighed.

“Hey, I happen to love that calendar, but I sure wish I knew more about all the artwork inside. I need Julie to explain all the reproductions to me.”

“Speaking of Julie…”

“Uh-oh. That sounds ominous.”

“Not really. I’ve been doing some thinking about what you said yesterday—how you wished you didn’t have to hide the truth from Julie?” He paused, and I held my breath. “As hard as this is for me, I’ve got J and Brad and Penny to talk to, but you? You’ve got nobody. It hardly seems fair. Julie seems to be a great friend, and she’d never do anything to hurt you, right?”

“Right. Absolutely,” I said.

He sighed again.

“Telling her about us will make things a little more uncomfortable for me, but I’m willing to take one for the team if that’ll make things easier for you—as long as you can guarantee that she can be trusted not to tell anyone. No room for doubt.”

“I can’t think of another friend I trust more right now, except maybe Matt,” I said. Again, his name evoked silence. “Daniel?”

“I’m here,” he said flatly.

“Okay, how about we don’t talk about
him
anymore. Deal?” I asked.

“Deal,” he said. “So, what do you think? Do you want to tell her?”

“That’s up to you. The lies are killing me, but I don’t think I have any right to make that kind of demand.”