Chapter Ten
Porter pulled up in front of my apartment building. His look said please tell me this isn’t where you live. He stared up at the four-story building that resembled something you might see in a low-budget horror film. The building where you know not everyone who goes in is coming out alive.
“It looks worse on the inside.” I grabbed the bag at my feet.
He threw his truck in park and grimaced.
“I live here by choice.” Not sure why I felt the need to explain myself to him. We were never seeing each other again.
He turned my way and tried to turn his grimace into a grin. “I can walk you up.”
“No thanks. But thank you for the ride.” I reached for the door handle.
He reached for my hand. “Wait.”
There was that bond again. Oppositely charged ions coming together, figuratively speaking. It was as if we were sodium and chloride, meant for each other. Pull away, my cerebrum signaled, the myocardium was disagreeing. My internal organs waged a war, all while I stared into the most beautiful oculus sinister and oculus dexter I had ever seen. I must be nervous, thinking in the Latin terms I’d learned for left and right eye in anatomy.
“I should go,” I breathed out.
“Can we have dinner this week?” he hurried to ask.
I pulled away. “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
His gaze fixed on our empty hands before he scooted closer and begged me with his eyes to change my mind. “Why not?”
“I’m busy.”
“What about next week? You mentioned to Natalie it was spring break.”
I opened the passenger door. “I’ll still be in the lab.”
“You have to eat. You can’t spare an hour?”
He forced my hand. I had to face him and own the real reason. “I can’t—”
“Are you dating someone?”
If ever I wanted to lie, this was the time. I tossed my head from side to side. “Does my lab count?”
His crooked smile appeared. “No.”
His smile was getting to me. I hopped out of the truck with the bag.
“Holland,” he called out, scrambling to undo his seatbelt. “Please.”
“Porter, we can’t.”
He held onto his seatbelt, his brows knitted together. “Why?”
I closed my eyes for a second and breathed in and out. When I opened them, I felt the sting of tears. “You left.” I tried my best to keep emotion out of my voice, but it had lived in me for almost eight years. He left and he had taken something with him. Something I valued more than anything, even my education. He took love—his, and all that I had to give.
He sat up, but his eyes never left mine. “I’m sorry, Holland. Maybe it means nothing to you, but I’m here now and I’m not the coward that left.”
“For yours and your family’s sake I hope that’s true. Do your best to repair your relationships with them and help the Clairborne.” I started to close the truck door, but not fast enough.
“I plan on repairing more than that.” He’d never sounded so determined, which was saying something.
I shut the door, shaking my head. Surely he couldn’t be referring to us after all this time. Or was he? I made the mistake of looking at him through the window. His eyes and the way he was leaning toward me reminded me of the first time he asked me out and I said no. I didn’t want to break the rules or lose my job. But he persisted, and the more I got to know him, the harder it was to not give in to what I wanted. It was the first time, but far from the last, that he got my heart to overrule my head.
Not this time though.
I turned in my heels, no longer that girl. My heart poised a question, Are you sure? I faltered for a second on my way to the door. Of course I—
“Holland,” Porter called out.
I paused and held my breath, not able to look back at him.
“Remember that night in the hammock when I predicted your future? I’ve been right about everything so far.”
I let out the breath in a gasp. I turned toward the man with his window down and a look that said I dare you.
His grin bordered on arrogant. “I don’t want to start being wrong now.”
I dropped the bag.
He made note of my reaction. “Good, you do remember that night.”
I stood as tall as I could. “I do remember that night, Porter Clairborne. And you may have been right about where I would end up, but you were wrong about us. You made sure of it when you left.”
The smile still played on his face. “Darlin’,” I hadn’t been called that in forever. His accent was back. “Let me refresh your memory. I said our relationship may not go exactly how we planned or even wanted, but there wouldn’t be an end. Not for us.”
I stepped closer. “Even if that were true, which it’s not, what makes you think I would still want you after all these years?”
“You would have kept on walking into your apartment building and never looked back if there wasn’t a part of you that didn’t always wonder what could have been. What could be. And I know when we touch you feel the same spark that was always there.”
I gave him a look to rival his sister’s. “All that is, is a mixture of adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin.” I turned to walk away.
His laughter was loud enough that I could hear it plainly several feet away from him. “I’ve missed you, Holland Reeves.”
Don’t respond, just keep on walking. Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon . . .
“Carbon, nitrogen, oxygen,” he taunted me. He knew exactly what I was doing, even how far I had made it on the table.
I spun around with narrowed eyes, catecholamines surging through me. I had never felt so angry. I had learned to school, even hide my emotions, probably to my detriment in some instances. This would be one of those cases where I should have. But, you see, the amygdala in your brain that senses threats to your wellbeing has a nasty habit of making you react before the cortex kicks in your reasonable side.
“You must think I’m that naïve eighteen-year-old girl that you left. Why don’t you go and tell your stories about how much you missed me to all your girlfriends, like Honey, or Skipper.”
Those were the only ones I could remember off the top of my head, from the string of girlfriends he’d had over the years. Skipper was the actress. Her last name was Ahoy, by the way.
Even from a distance, I could see his eyes bulge before he fumbled his way out of his truck. That wasn’t going to do. This conversation was over. We were over. I picked up the nicest paper bag ever that Mrs. Clairborne had given me and made a beeline for the entrance.
It was a fine plan until my heel got caught in the cracked concrete that was supposed to be a sidewalk—and maybe it was ten years ago. My ankle went one way while the rest of my body went the other. I faltered, and there was Porter ready to steady me. Instant pain surged through me.
“Cytosine! Guanine! Adenine! Thymine! Uracil!” I did my best to hold back the tears while holding up my right foot that now throbbed.
Porter wrapped his arm around me, allowing me to balance. “What language is that?”
I ignored him and breathed through the pain. And how did he not know those were nucleobases?
“Are you okay?”
I tried putting pressure back on my foot. I needed out of Porter’s arms in Planck time— theoretically the smallest time measurement possible. I let out a yelp when my foot and the ground made contact. I breathed in and out again with my eyes closed; this way I couldn’t see how tenderly Porter was looking at me.
“I’m fine,” I squeaked. “I think I have it from here.” I was going to hobble if I had to. I applied the least amount of pressure I could on my injured foot and took another deep breath before pulling away. “Thanks. I’m going to go now.”
“I forgot how stubborn you are.” He refused to let go.
I turned and met his eyes. We were too close. His minty breath lingered between us. The back of his free hand found its way to my cheek. “I did not forget how beautiful you are.”
I turned from the caress. “Please don’t.” I couldn’t stand the ache his touch caused. It made me want more.
“I’m sorry. I’m going too fast. You’ve always had that effect on me. Let me help you to the steps so we can look at your foot.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Agree to disagree.” He tightened his grip, allowing me the ability to lean on him.
“Only to the steps.”
He chuckled. “Whatever you say.”
We moved slowly, me hopping on one foot, to the filthy concrete steps that led to the entrance of my building. I hated the thought of sitting on them. People rubbed cigarettes into them, as well as using it as a place to spit their gum and who knew what else.
“Um.” I eyed the steps. “I think I’ll take my chances and head up to my apartment.”
“What floor do you live on?”
“Third.”
“Is there an elevator?”
“Technically, but I value my life. I can make it up the stairs.” I had an iron will.
He looked down at my foot. “It’s already swelling; that isn’t a good sign. Did you feel or hear a pop?”
I shrugged. It all happened so fast, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t help that emotionally I wasn’t in the best place.
“You should probably have it checked out.”
I loosened my grip on him and reached for the metal hand rail. I would sanitize my hand once I made it to my apartment.
“Maybe tomorrow, but I’m sure it’s nothing.” I didn’t have time for an injury. I winced when I applied more pressure on my foot. I could do this. I would hop up the stairs.
Without warning, Porter picked me up in one fluid swipe.
My body went rigid. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Saving you from your stubborn self.”
“I’m no damsel in distress.”
He sighed. “I’m well aware of that, but you don’t always have to do it on your own.”
Ridiculous lacrimal glands. I wiped at my eyes. “Actually, I do.”
His features softened. “Not today.”
I relaxed involuntarily in his arms.
He pulled me closer. “Where’s the nearest urgent care?”
I gazed into his blue-as-the-sea eyes, trying to ignore the pain emanating from the lower region of my body. “Porter.”
“Holland.” He leaned in closer. His forehead almost met mine.
“I don’t like you,” I whispered.
He laughed before kissing my forehead as if it was the natural thing for him to do. “Good. For a second there I thought you were going to make this easy on me.”