CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We make it on to the elevator without a problem. They have pictures of Sam and me at the front desk, so even though it’s different people working there at this time of night, we have no issues with getting access. Sam uses his card key to get us up to Amber’s floor. The doors open, and we step off the elevator, and then we stand there looking around the foyer together.
“I don’t know what my brother was thinking with this stuff.” Sam is shaking his head at the decor.
“I don’t think either one of our siblings pays much attention to their surroundings. They were probably just looking for an apartment that was private and protected, and this place came already decorated like this.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Our easy camaraderie slips away and leaves us with another awkward moment. I try to smile, but the expression feels stiff on my face, so I stop.
“So . . . ,” I say, hoping more words will follow. Unfortunately, they don’t. And now I know what it means when people say silence can be deafening.
“Yeah, so, thanks for hanging with me.” Sam holds his hand out.
I look down at it, not knowing what I’m supposed to do. Does he want to shake hands? It feels like he’s making a declaration . . . something like: Don’t think anything actually happened between us; we’re just acquaintances, nothing else.
His arm drops to his side. “Sorry. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” He runs his fingers through his hair, obviously nervous.
“We can shake hands if you want.” I shrug, almost happy to know that he’s feeling and acting as off-kilter as I am.
He shakes his head and lets out a long breath, looking at the floor. “I have no idea what’s going on with me. To be honest, I feel completely out of my element. This is not normal for me.” He looks up, his eyes dark and his stare intense.
I’m pretty sure I know what he’s thinking. For the first time in my life I can read someone else’s thoughts, and it’s exhilarating. He’s wondering what’s going on between us; he has to be. I can’t be dreaming all of this up . . . this connection we have . . . this desire to be in each other’s company. We shared a lot tonight, and while I still don’t know him that well, I’m almost positive he doesn’t tell many other people what he told me tonight. He’s a private person, like I am—but with each other, we open up.
“We could hug it out if you prefer,” I say, hoping I can ease his discomfort with a little silliness. “We do a lot of hugging back at my house. I’m a pro.”
The grin is slow to spread across his face, but when it does, it lights up the entire room. “I could definitely deal with a hug.” He holds his arms out, the plastic bag holding our costumes hanging from one of his hands.
I take two steps toward him and walk into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his waist. His strong arms encircle my back and pull me in. Damn. Our bodies are touching from knees to shoulders, and this could very well be the best hug I’ve ever had in my entire life.
I’m holding my breath at first. When I finally let it out, I collapse in a little and he holds me tighter. Our bodies meld together, all heat and softness. He smells so good, like a combination of fresh air, cologne, pizza, and laundry soap. There’s something else there too—the scent of a man. I try not to be obvious about inhaling it like a drug.
“This is way better than a handshake,” he says into my neck, making goose bumps rise up my arm and leg.
“Yeah, it is.”
The hug should probably be over by now, but I can’t let go. I don’t want to. I’m going to let him decide when it’s time for it to end. This feels too good, and it’s been so long since anyone has held me like this.
“Is this weird?” he asks a few seconds later.
“I don’t think so.” Maybe somebody else watching us would think we were strange, and maybe if it were anybody else with his arms around me, it would be, but with him it feels totally right.
“Good. I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”
“They won’t be,” I say, hoping with everything in me that I’m speaking the truth.
“How do you know?” he asks in a soft voice.
“Because.” I speak with a confidence I don’t necessarily feel. “I’m a hippie chick, remember? We give free hugs all the time. I’m a hugging expert. And anything goes with hippie chicks.”
He chuckles deep in his chest. “That’s good to know.”
I realize then that he took what I said in a sexual way. “Well . . . not just anything. That’s not what I meant.”
He laughs harder. “Sure it isn’t.”
I pull away a little and look up at him. “Seriously. I’m not that kind of girl.”
He leans back but doesn’t let go. We’re left standing in each other’s arms, and it’s very intimate. His face is mere inches away, his beard occasionally touching my chin and tickling me.
“I know you’re not that kind of girl, Emerald.”
I love the sound of my name coming from his mouth. And maybe I’m just imagining things, but there seems to be a special meaning in his words. I’m not sure I quite understand them, though.
“What kind of girl are you talking about?” I ask, not quite believing I have the audacity to do it. Being with Sam makes me braver.
He looks like he’s trying not to grin. “I don’t know. What kind of girl are you talking about?”
Now he’s starting to frustrate me. “Would you stop teasing me?”
“I’m not teasing you.”
“What do you call it?”
“I call it flirting.”
Heat flashes up from my neck and goes straight to my forehead. My words come out almost as a whisper. “You’re flirting with me?”
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
“Maybe. But I wasn’t sure.”
He gives me the most endearing look. “Is it okay if I flirt with you a little?”
I shrug, trying so hard to be cool about something I want to scream over. “Yeah, I’m not complaining.”
“Good.”
We search other’s eyes for several more long seconds. My heart is beating so hard, I know he can feel it through our shirts. I can’t believe it! He feels it too! I wasn’t just imagining the connection between us, and I’m not crazy. This is real and it’s happening.
“I seriously want to kiss you right now,” he says in a soft voice.
I can smell the beer and pizza on his breath. It’s intoxicating, which is bizarre. I should be repulsed, but I’m not . . . not by a long shot. I am so attracted to this man right now, it’s unbelievable.
“What’s stopping you?” I ask. This is so not me, to be this bold. But I want him to kiss me more than anything in the world, and I’m not going to let fear ruin things for me.
He frowns just the slightest bit, worry furrowing his brow. “I don’t want to mess things up.”
I open my mouth to tell him there’s nothing he could do to mess this up right now except walk away, but his phone rings and stops the words before they can leave my throat.
His body stiffens in my arms.
“You should answer that,” I say. I pull away when I sense that he’s going to disagree. “It could be about Sadie or Madison.” I can’t get in the middle of that. His real life comes before this . . . fantasy . . . or whatever it is we’ve got going on here.
He nods stiffly and steps back, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Yeah. What’s up?”
I turn and start to walk out of the foyer, intending to leave him alone so he can have a private conversation, but he reaches out and takes my hand. I stop immediately and face him. We stand there together as he continues his conversation.