Page 55 of Running
“Wait. That upset you…” He twists his head towards me. “Because you think I wasn’t being serious when we talked at my house?”
“I guess…I thought you were interested in trying to see if we could date or whatever after the season’s done. But maybe I heard that wrong.” I say the last part in almost a whisper.
Everything about this is torture for me. Exposing myself emotionally, speaking into my hurt.
But then he puts his right hand on top of my left one, his warm palm pausing the rise of my anxiety.
“You didn’t, Grace. If anything, I don’t want to getmy ownhopes up.”
Hishopes up? Oh.
“For all I know, you’ll be in a serious relationship by then.” He turns his head to look at me, and then swings back to watching the road. “I’m sorry about what I said when we were dancing. That’s definitely not what I meant.”
He keeps his hand on mine and looks at me again. This time my eyes meet his, and it’s like he’s opened up a window to all of his emotions, honest and raw.
The look cuts through all of my remaining insecurities.Johnsontrustsme. The connection I’ve been feeling—it’s not one-sided.
He shifts his head again so he can navigate the car, and as I hear the GPS instructions, I know we’re getting close to my building. Once we’re near enough that he has to make some quicker turns, he pulls his hand off mine and puts it back on the steering wheel.
We stay silent, but I don’t mind. Because now I have plenty to think about.
When we reach my building’s street, he heads into the parking garage.
“Is there assigned parking?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Just grab a spot.”
As he brings the car to a stop, I see him grab his phone. “Let me call an Uber now, in case there’s a wait.” He fiddles with the phone. “A car is only eight minutes away if I pay the priority fee, perfect.” He clicks on that option.
Should I invite him in? Or maybe wait in our building lobby with him?
Our eyes meet again, and there’s that vulnerability in his, but also something more too.
“I’m sorry our dance got cut short because of what I said.” His voice is gruff.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
“I’ll make up for it another night. Give you the dance you deserve.”
The air is still in the car now that the engine is off. He raises his right hand, then hesitates mid-air. “You looked so beautiful tonight, Grace.”
I look down at my lap. “Thank you.”
He must resolve his internal struggle, because I feel his hand on the back of my head as he slowly strokes the length of my hair.
I turn my gaze to him again. His deep brown eyes are so rich with emotion—and this time,hunger.
We stare at each other, and I can’t help it. My head moves an inch closer to his.
His head moves an inch closer in return.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding with a sigh, my body feeling like a live wire.
“Grace,” he says softly.
Another inch by me.
Another by him.
