Page 36 of Embracing the Beat
“You just haven’t answered it.”
“I don’t need to.”
“I would appreciate it if you did. If I made you uncomfortable—”
“Why would I be uncomfortable, West?”
“Because of the other night,” he says.
“What about the other night?” I want to goad him to admit it. To say it out loud.
We had sex.
“That I—you—we…”
“We?”
“God dammit, Michaela. You and I had sex, and I’m concerned about how you seem uncomfortable around me now. That you want to run to California. Happy?” His words come in a rush.
“No,” I whisper, clearing my throat. “I’m not happy. I am uncomfortable. But it has nothing to do with you. And everything to do with how I feel about the other night. You’re a temptation, West. And I have no faith in my self-control. I’m afraid I’ll throw myself at you for a repeat. I want to avoid that rejection if I can.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” he admits. “I liked hanging out with you last week. Before Friday. Not that I didn’t like Friday either, but…”
“But what?”
“You’re my best friend’s little sister. I’ve known you since you were in diapers. I shouldn’t have let Friday night happen.”
“You weren’t the only one making decisions that night.”
“No, but I am the one who should have put a stop to it. And not only because of who you are. I have no business getting involved with anyone.”
He scrapes a hand through his hair and stands, walking his plate to the sink.
“Why?”
His shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn around, and he doesn’t acknowledge my question.
“Is it because of Ashley? You’re still in love with her?” They’d been together for almost ten years.
He spins around, the disgust so strong on his face, I suck in a breath.
“Love? Fuck no. Any feelings I had for her were obliterated when I discovered she had been lying to me,” he spits out.
I’ve never heard West talk the way he is now, and the surprise must register on my face because his expression changes to resignation and his tone loses its malice.
“Ashley lied to me for years. And I only just found out. I’m not in the right headspace for anyone at this point. I have some shit to work through.”
“I-I’m sorry, West. I didn’t know.”
“Most people don’t. Only Sawyer. Now you.” He turns and focuses on rinsing his plate, the water running long after his plate is clean.
Standing, I approach him slowly, a déjà vu feeling hitting me from the other morning. Only there was no hesitation before. Will he welcome my touch?
Only one way to find out.
I slide both arms around him, leaning my cheek against the warmth of his back. He tenses, and I prepare to step away before his hands come up and lock my arms where they are.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Me too.”
“Can we start over on this friends thing? Forget everything else?”
We could both use a friend.
“Okay,” I agree, squeezing my arms around his waist. “Friends.”
