Page 28 of American Love Story

“All right, Ron. Have a good weekend. See you Monday.”

He waved as he got in his car. “I hope whoever made you smile like that treats you right, Easton. You deserve it.”

Now I was really fucking blushing.

I waved at Ron as he got in his truck and immediately started the three blocks to my building. I kept thinking of ways to respond.What should I say? Should I send a photo?

By the time I got to my apartment, I’d made up my mind.

I started undressing as I moved through the loft, the feel of air against my skin was almost too much. I felt like my body was on fire…over a text. I toed off my shoes by the stairs going up to the bedroom and took of my shirt as I went.

I got to the room and turned on the lamp by my bed, then with my back to the window, took a selfie. I sent Patrice the image of me, shirtless with rumpled hair, before I talked myself out of it.

Just the clock tower view for me tonight, and bed soon…

I knew I was starting something, but I was loathe to stop whatever this was.

chapter seven

patrice

I was in bed already when I felt my phone buzz with a message containing a selfie from Easton. My heart raced from just seeing his face. He was standing in his room, and there was enough of his bare chest in the picture that I could see a little bit of the patch of hair he had between his pecs. The same patch of hair that I’d run my lips over almost obsessively last summer. Seeing it now made me recall exactly how warm his skin always felt, the way he was always eager for my touch.

I was really tripping.

I’d felt too tight in my own skin all day, wishing I was in Ithaca and could show up at Easton’s door and end this game we’d been playing for weeks now. I ran my fingers over the screen of my phone, considering my next move. I was always overthinking, calculating the many pitfalls that could come with being impulsive, of letting my feelings get the best of me. That’s why dating had always been on the backburner, something I couldn’t afford to throw myself into. There was too much at stake for distractions.

But now, with tenure looming further in the distance, life didn’t feel like an obstacle course. I felt like I could look around, like I could relax, and the only thing I wanted was more of Easton.

I opened my texting app and typed the words before I reconsidered.

FaceTime me when you’re in bed, so I can say goodnight.

Regret hit me almost as soon as I sent the message, but I wasn’t taking it back. Still, I quickly dropped the phone on the table next to the bed and grabbed my Kindle, pretending to read while I waited to hear the buzz of a message, or a call coming in.

I was reading the same sentence for the fifth time when the phone started skittering on the wooded surface. Instead of taking it, I got out of bed and ignored it, like a complete asshole. I listened to the phone vibrating as I slowly turned off my Kindle, then walked to the bathroom and wrapped my locs. I let myself feel the craving to see him, the butterflies in my stomach when the phone stopped buzzing. I thought about Easton sitting there confused, wondering why I’d told him to call just so I could ignore his call, and hated myself a little.

Mind games, fuckboy shit…and why? Because I knew the moment I grabbed that phone, it was all over.

After I took my time with my locs and brushing my teeth, I walked back to the bedroom and picked up the phone as I got back in bed. When I touched the screen I saw he left a message to call when I was ready. Just like that. The tightness I’d been feeling all day started to loosen as I tapped my phone to call him back.

Inevitable.

I held the screen up to my face and waited. After only a few rings, Easton’s face filled it. His expression a mirror image of mine. Head propped on a pillow, his bare neck and chest visible on the screen.

He looked tired and so fucking beautiful, and the smile he gave me felt like what I’d been needing all day.

“Hey.”

I smiled back and greeted him. “Hey yourself, long day?”

He lifted a shoulder before answering, the weariness obvious in his expression. “It wasn’t particularly longer than any other day. We’re preparing for that case of the community college student who was assaulted by a classmate last year.”

I grimaced, remembering I’d seen the story about the upcoming trial a few days ago. “That must be intense.”

He nodded and ran his hand over his hair. When he did, I could see the little mole right below his hairline. It was funny, my friends always teased me about how casual, almost dismissive I was with the people I dated. Not really paying attention to details, but with Easton, I’d memorized every centimeter of his body. Each freckle and scar seared in my mind forever. His body calling to me to touch whenever I was near.

After a moment, he answered with a tired smile still on his lips. “Yeah, gearing up for a trial is always kind of grueling, but we have it mostly under control.” I could tell he wasn’t up to talking about his job anymore. Easton did not like talking about his stress, or troubles. He didn’t like talking about himself too much either.