Page 66 of The Downside of Love
She wanted to look nice today.
Does she realize her “nice” is nowhere near the tame description of nice? No, it’s drop-dead gorgeous, because of the way she styled her hair, leaving it half up, half down, showing off her stunning eyes, and the length of her dress, dancing at her thighs, twisting and turning with her every movement.
It’s goddamn torture being near her, unable to curb my craving.
Rory is in the kitchen, moving things around on the counter, making herself busy as I stand in front of my bed, unsure what to do. We shared this amazing moment, she told me she missed me, I had her in my arms, and then when I realized I was inches away from kissing her, I backed away, needing a moment to collect myself.
And now I think I made it awkward for both of us.
Wanting to get back to our friendly banter, I say, “So, how was your day?”
The sound of my voice breaks through the silence as she pulls plates down from the cabinet. Quickly I walk up behind her and take the plates in my hand. “Here, I can set the table.”
My chest to her back, towering over her, one hand on her hip holding her in place, the other trying to take the plates from her, her body stiffens. Swallowing hard, dying a slow death inside from how beautiful she is, I gently take the plates from her. “Sit. Want me to get you something to drink?”
She shakes her head. “I’m good. I, uh, I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay.” Smiling I nod behind me. “It’s open.”
She chuckles quietly and takes off, her hair brushing over my forearm in her retreat, teasing me, reminding me what a pathetic motherfucker I am.
I turn my back to the bathroom, set the plates down, and grip the counter. My body is so fucking tense, I can feel a headache at the base of my neck developing. Head bent forward, eyes closed, I force myself to push down my feelings, to tamp the need I have for her. Because if this is going to work for the next few days, I need to compartmentalize.
She’s a friend.
She’s one of my best friends.
You don’t want to lose that, so get your shit together.
I can fucking do this.
Gripping the plates, I turn around to find Rory standing at the bathroom door, watching me.
Shit, what is she thinking? Say something. Don’t let her believe she has such a strong effect on you.
“Getting a headache,” I announce, the truth pounding at the base of my skull now.
Her brow pulls together with concern. “Oh no, do you want any pain relievers?”
“Sure.” Not sure it will help, but it keeps her busy while I set the table. Going to the fridge, she opens a can of Coke Zero for me and hands me three pills along with the soda.
“Caffeine always helps me when I have a headache.”
“Thank you.”
We stare at each other for a few beats too long, just as the buzzer for the oven goes off. Spinning around quickly, her dress flaring up, Rory puts on a pink oven mitt and pulls out a dish of chicken and broccoli.
Smells like heaven.
She looks like heaven.
I down my pills, put the can of soda on the table, and move to the silverware drawer where I grab forks and knives for us while Rory puts the meal on a serving platter.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Water is great,” she answers softly. I drag my hand over my face when I turn away from her, hating every tense moment. Even her voice is tight and clipped, and I have no idea why. Did I do something wrong? Did I offend her?
Was it because I called her beautiful?
