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He grabs onto his hair, and the pain that used to register through his eyes when I first met him is back.
I hate seeing it on him.
I wish I could comfort him; I wish he’d tell me more about his past so we could move forward together.
“Honestly, at first it was little things. I noticed your cupid’s bow and the color of your eyes ... then your cute little ears and earrings.” He shrugs, like his words are no big deal. “Seemed innocent enough until we first touched, and I’d spend my days dreaming about kissing you.”
I’m so quiet and attentive to his words.
“I knew you would be different,” he whispers, his jaw tensing like he hates the admission itself.
“How so?”
My heart threatens to burst out of my chest when his eyes penetrate mine, searching for my soul in a sea of dark debris. “There was something about you.”
Something aboutus, I want to correct him.
Like the deepest, bleakest parts of ourselves were connected. We didn’t need to open our mouths or our eyes. There was already a spirit there, channeling us closer.
“What happened to her?”
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
Just like that, the happiness from his previous words washes away. Instead, doubt takes over every part of my brain as I wonder if it’ll always be like this.
“Good night, Damon.”
“Gemma—”
I slam his car door in his face, my steps quickly bringing me to my car.
I place my phone in the cup holder, seeing Damon’s name appear on my Bluetooth as I drive out of the parking lot.
I hate myself for succumbing to his magnetic pull when, at the last second, I press the call button on the steering wheel.
“You test my patience, Red.”
“Itest your patience?” I don’t think I’ve ever gotten as mad at someone as much as I do Damon. He has this ability to get under my skin. But it’s mixed with so much passion it overrides the fury.
“Gemma.” He sighs. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not ready.”
“Okay.” Maybe I need to appreciate the fact that he opened up to me today, even if I wish I knew more.
I love him with every fiber of my heart, and it terrifies me. Will he tire of me? Want to be with other women? Fear the commitment too much?
“Damon.” I stop at a red light, gathering my thoughts. “Do you think we’ll be okay working together?”
“You don’t worry about this. I’m the one who fucked up—this is on me.”
I lean my head against the headrest while I wait for the light to turn green. “Stop blaming yourself. Things happen. I’m just wondering if you think I should apply to other positions within the firm.”
“I like working with you.”
“I like working with you too,” I whisper. “I also think about doing my master’s.”
“We have a paid master’s program you could look into.”
Though I won’t lie, going back to school to get a master’s degree is the last thing on my mind right now.
