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“I had a lot of fun with you tonight,” I start. “Thanks for dinner.”
He runs a hand through his hair. It slides right back over his forehead when he’s done. “You can thank me by going out with me again.”
He takes a step closer and grips the back of my neck with his fingers, and I know he’s going to kiss me.
I tilt my head as his lips brush across mine. It’s a sweet kiss, and I enjoy it. But I can’t stop myself from comparing it to my last kiss. The one I shared with Ollie in the alleyway. It’s like a sparkler competing with a fireworks show. Both are nice, but one is explosive. And Johnny’s kiss isn’t the one that has my toes curling.
He comes back in for another, and I reflexively turn my head. His lips land on my cheek. He chuckles as he pulls away.
“Okay,” he says reluctantly. “We can take this slow.”
I wish the only reason I’d turned was because I wanted to take my time with things. I wish it weren’t because of the man who might or might not be on the other side of this door. It would be so much simpler if that were the case.
Johnny takes a step back and then another. “I’ll call you.”
“Okay,” I agree.
I watch him walk down the stairs and climb back into his Mustang. The engine roars to life. I wait until he backs out and pulls onto the main street before I twist the knob to open the front door to the apartment.
My heart sinks when it’s completely dark inside. All the lights are out, leaving me to think Ollie must’ve gone out for the night. I’m more disappointed than I should be, but I’ve gotten used to an empty place. I think I’ve spent more nights here alone than with him.
I shut the door softly behind me and lean against the wood facade for a moment, closing my eyes and resting my head back. When my lids drift open again, it takes my vision a few seconds to adjust to the dark.
“Did you have fun?”
My head whips to the corner of the room in surprise when I hear the rumble of his words. His voice is low and thick … affected. He’s sitting in a chair, but his face is in shadow.
“You scared me,” I admit, taking a step away from the door. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I’m here. I’ve been here all night.”
I move closer. The air is weighted. Everything feels heavy, including my steps. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“I asked you first,” he murmurs. He brings a bottle up to his mouth and takes a drink of beer.
“Did I have fun?” I repeat. “Yes.” I slide the heels from my feet one at a time and abandon them next to the couch. “Your turn.”
He tips his drink again, and I watch his throat bob as he swallows. He’s content to make me wait. Or maybe he doesn’t intend on answering my question at all. It wouldn’t be the first time.
My steps are whispers in the dark as I move slowly across the floor until I’m standing right in front of him, as if he were calling me closer. I can feel his eyes on me even if he’s shrouded in the shadows.
“You aren’t watching the game,” I observe.
The television screen is as black as the room. The only light present is coming through the sliding glass doors behind Ollie’s chair. That little bit of illumination lands on my face.
“Nope,” he says. “I guess I wasn’t in the mood.”
That’s surprising since he’s always ready and willing to watch hockey.
“What kind of mood are you in?” I inquire.
He chuckles, but it lacks humor. He reaches down until his bottle is resting on the floor beside his chair. He places his elbows on his knees, and his head falls into his hands, eliminating more of the space between us. “The kind of mood where you feel like sitting in a dark room with a beer to think.”
“Oh, yeah?” I breathe out. My pulse is racing, but my voice sounds calm. Unaffected. I’m a good actor. “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” he rumbles without hesitation, throwing me off guard.
“What about me?” I push.
