Page 16 of Fractured Heart

What does that even mean? That I can stay all weekend? All week? For the rest of the year?!

Even a few days should be enough for me to figure things out, but would Charles be okay with that? Tate didn’t even ask him if I could stay. So what happens if he wants me gone?

I glance at Charles and he stares right back. Behind his beard, his face remains impassive. I could almost be convinced he doesn’t care, but I see a tension in his huge frame that wasn’t there before. His eyes bore into me, and I wait for him to say the words.

I wait for him to tell me to leave.

Chapter 8

“I should get to bed.” Charles flips Grimm’s Fairy Tales closed.

I feel a wave of relief because he’s not telling me to leave. Then, he gets to his feet.

The entire couch shifts under his weight and Charles towers over Tate and me. Standing at full height, he’s a huge beast of a man, and I shrink in on myself as my heart pounds in my chest.

“Night.” Tate grins at his roommate, not seeming the least bit intimidated by his size.

With a curt nod, Charles heads toward a closed door that’s barely visible from where I’m standing. I guess that’s his bedroom. Before he enters, though, he pauses. With one huge hand on the doorframe, he looks over his shoulder and stares right at me. My heart skips a beat.

“Good night,” he says. He doesn’t smile. Actually, I think he frowns. It’s kind of hard to tell because of his beard.

Is he annoyed that I’m here? Does he want me to leave? And if he does, why didn’t he just say so? He keeps staring at me and my heart pounds in my chest. I have to fight the urge to back away, knowing Tate’s muscular chest is directly behind me. A few more seconds pass. Then, Charles spins around, enters his room, and slams the door shut.

“Does he not want me here?” I turn to Tate, swallowing hard. I’m suddenly aware of the lingering smells of mud, dirt, and dampness that cover my body. Of course, Charles doesn’t want me here. Their apartment is pristine and I’m a complete mess.

“Don’t worry, Roonie.” Tate gives me a reassuring smile. “Charles is always slow to warm up to people. Once he gets to know you, I’m sure you’ll get along.”

Tate sounds so sure. Plus, he thinks that I’ll be here long enough for Charles to get to know me. I can’t help smiling.

“Can I ask you something?” Tate leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze caresses my lips, and I shiver.

“Yeah?” I whisper back.

Tate glances at my lips again and I lick them nervously. I know he made it clear he wasn’t interested, but maybe he changed his mind? The way he’s staring at me now makes my lips tingle in anticipation. Is that what he’s going to ask? If he can kiss me?

If this were a fairy tale, we’d start singing about true love’s kiss. Then, our lips would lock and birds would sing and fireworks would go off in celebration. But this is real life, and I don’t know how to do this in real life. I know I should close my eyes, but when? Now? When our lips touch? And what do I do with my arms? What if I don’t know what to do with my arms?

“Roonie,” Tate whispers, making me forget about my worries. My eyes drift shut of their own accord, and my mind shouts this is it! This is it! “Can you tell me where you heard those songs?”

“What?” My eyes fly open and my cheeks burn. How could I be so stupid? Of course, Tate doesn’t want to kiss me. A guy like him would never be attracted to someone like me.

“The songs…” Tate presses, while I wish I could disappear. “You know, like the one we were just singing? Where did you hear it?”

“Nowhere,” I mumble, looking down at my feet.

“Look, don’t be embarrassed. I don’t care if it’s a kid cartoon or just…” Tate runs a hand through his thick, blond hair. “Look, please, Roonie? I just want to know where you heard that song.”

“I…” I take a deep breath and then blurt out, “I made it up.”

“You made it up it?” Tate frowns. “You mean, you wrote it?”

I nod and quickly look away.

“Just wait until I tell Charles. He is going to flip!”

“Please don’t tell him.”

“Why not?” Tate frowns.