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When he comes back, he has a small smile on his face, and I want to take a picture, if only to look at when I’m feeling down.
“I shouldn’t have taken you to La Boucherie. It’s not your style.”
I shrug, thanking him for my ice cream, and taking a small scoop with the spoon. “I enjoyed the experience.”
And the company.
“Besides, this isn’t a date, so you shouldn’t worry about pleasing me,” I say. He licks his spoon, slowly, something I can’t pinpoint overriding his pupils. “Do you... ever date?”
He mentioned only fucking and leaving. He must’ve had one girlfriend at least. The seconds tick by and I get no answer.
We finish our ice cream, and it irks me the way that he won’t ever answer my questions about his love life. Sure, it’s personal, but he makes me too curious to know more when he tells me he wants to fuck me against the hotel room wall.
I bite my tongue, thinking it through. Deciding whether it’s worth ruining such a good evening. I can’t remember the last time I was this content and blissfully happy.
The moment his feet touch the ground and he’s throwing away our cups, I decide to let it go. It’s not worth it. Maybe one day he’ll tell me.
We take a cab back to the hotel, both quiet. It’s not until we reach my room that I feel his empowering presence behind me, getting closer, nearing my body.
“Goodnight, Gemma.”
I turn to face him, my body leaning on the door. “Thank you” is all I say.
He nods and disappears toward his room. In the blink of an eye, he’s out of sight, though not out of mind.
Once in my room, I head for the bathroom, dropping my clothes on the floor before stepping into the shower. I let the heat slightly pain my body. I’d rather focus on that than think about the feelings that are coursing through me.
I can’t know for sure if this is just a crush or if I’m falling in the deep end of a dark lake.
As soon as I’m done, I grab my long Harry Potter shirt and smell it.
It reminds me of home.
I take my phone from the charger and wonder if Harvey’s still up, considering the two-hour time difference. He hasn’t texted me all day. I doubt he’s up, but I text him anyway.
Gemma:Having fun?
It doesn’t take him long to answer.
Harvey:Yeah . . . how’s LA?
My heart skips a few beats the same way it always does whenever he questions me about something in my life. Because it’ssorare. I cherish these moments.
Gemma:I had a conference all day then a business dinner.
Harvey:Some business dinner that must’ve been.
My heart rate accelerates as I stare at his message too many times to count. Is he referring to the time I’m texting him at? It’s almost midnight.
Or does he know? Is he on to me? Does he know that I’m feeling things for my boss? That I’m smiling thinking about another man who isn’t him?
Can he sense the gash of my betrayal?
Gemma:What is that supposed to mean?
He doesn’t reply and I wish I hadn’t answered, insteadhoping that it might’ve made him want to double up his efforts in our relationship.
I’m getting sick of Damon’s constant mood swings. What I expected would be a relaxing Saturday morning working on my report ends up with him knocking loudly on my door at nine in the morning. Luckily, I had already showered and changed into jeans and a T-shirt before he showed up.
