Page 19 of Wait for Him

“You're shivering.”

“It's a light tremble.”

I look down at her. “What the hell is a light tremble?”

“A very mild shiver.”

“That's still shivering, Rosalie.”

“It's different.”

“Oh, well, excuse the fuck out of me.”

She giggles, and I unzip my hoodie.

"No," she immediately puts a hand up. "You'll be cold."

“Rose.”

“Jackson.”

“Put the fucking hoodie on.”

“You're so bossy when you’ve been drinking.”

“And you're very argumentative when you have.”

I don't bother waiting for her to concede because we'll be here until sunrise. I wrap the hoodie around her shoulders and pull her into my chest, tucking her beneath my arm.

She comes willingly. Always fucking does. That's my problem.

Rose never hesitates to touch me. She doesn't hesitate to let me touch her either. She'll curl up beneath my arm, lay her head on my chest, or throw her legs across my lap when we're watching a movie. Half the time she hugs me hello like she hasn't seen me in six months when she saw me twelve fucking hours ago.

And I eat that shit up. Every crumb.

Because I know nothing will ever come of us. I know that. She made herself perfectly clear three years ago, and I've respected it. Never brought up that night again. Never tried to kiss her. Never pushed her for something she had already told me she wasn't willing to give.

I get the memory of one night and moments like this one, and I've decided that's enough.

I keep deciding it's enough.

“Thank you. You didn't have to do that. You must be cold too.” She tilts her face up toward me, looking through those flawless long lashes.

“I didn't bring it for myself. I knew you'd get cold.”

Her eyebrows pull together. “You brought a hoodie because you knew I'd get cold?”

“You always get cold.”

“I do not.”

“You keep a blanket in your office.”

“The air-conditioning is aggressive.”

“You wore a cardigan to Bennet's barbecue in July.”

“It got chilly.”