Page 29 of Expressionate
My grin widens. "Yeah, I found it while cleaning out an old loft. My friend told me I could have it. I don't have any use for something like this, but I thought you would like it. Go on," I press, "pull itout."
Carefully, she reaches inside and the small muscles in her arms tense as she lifts the heavy typewriter out. It thunks back down on the bed. "Sorry," I move forward. "I've been lifting and carrying that thing all day. I forgot how heavy it was." I slide around her and pick it up. "Tell me where you want to set itup."
Love blinks at me before pointing to the desk. She rushes ahead of me, shuffling books to the side, and picks up her laptop. I set the typewriter down and wipe a bit of dust down the sides of my pants before I can think better of it. Ah, shit. I just cleaned up. Love doesn't look like she's paying attention though. Instead, she looks entranced by the thing on her desk. I gently pry her laptop from her arms, close it and set it on the bed, then snatch the box up and set it on the floor. Her fingers hover over the keys, softly stroking without pressing down. I almost want to do a dorky fist pump or something. She likesit.
"Not bad, huh?" I say, drawing her out of herreverie.
Her gaze returns to mine, eyebrows lowering. Her mouth opens, and she bites down on that plush bottom lip. I gulp. This is what the roommate had been trying to do. But no one can look as sexy as Love does when she's not even fucking trying. Images of her skin sliding against mine flash through my mind. I can’t say why there’s this beating urge under my skin to crawl under her clothes and strip her bare. But that fucking kiss lit something within me. I want to see what she’s like when she’s not so tense, not so closed up. My erection strains against my jeans. When her eyes move back to the typewriter, I quickly and as discreetly as possible adjust myself, tucking my cock into the waistband of my jeans. It's not ideal, but better than standing around with tentedpants.
"Why did you get me a typewriter?" she finally asks, turning to look at me fully. “Why did you get me anything at all?” She moves away from the thing as if she's scared she'll lose herself again and keep touching it. I watch as she folds her arms across her chest and tucks her hands in, hunching forward. I grin.Oh, sweet, naive Lovely, I think. Innocent, she may look, and she's got the act down. She can't honestly be surprised by a gift, canshe?
"I just saw it and thought you'd like it," I say. "I didn't have to pay for it oranything.”
"You didn't have to do that," she says. “We barely know eachother.”
I raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, I know. I wanted to. And I’d say we know each other a little better than you’d like to admit." I lean back against the desk, propping myself up. “I’ve seen where you work, you’ve seen me play andfight.”
Love’s teeth make an appearance. White as pearls as she bites down on her lower lip. All of the blood south of my navel thrums. Fuck. Thisgirl.
I tilt my head to the side before turning my face away. I straighten and make my way out into the hallway. Instinctively, she follows. I stop in the living room and she stops too. Her teeth sink back into her lower lip and my mouth goes dry. I look around the room and see all the places I could fuck her – the couch, against the wall – hell, even the goddamn floor will do. Anything to get inside this insanely attractive and confusing woman. The same woman who will smoke cigarettes with tricks and go to a cage fight and tell me off. Why is getting her naked all I can think of? That’s definitely notnormal.
“Why did you come over?” I ask. “Why were you looking for me? Did you needsomething?"
"No," she says, shaking her head. "It was...itisnothing. Forget it. I told your roommateto."
I hum. "Hmmm." I crack my neck. "Well, I guess I'll head out then. I wanted to bring the typewriter over anyway. So, yeah." Great, I think, now I'm feeling awkward. Love nods, her hands moving against each other in front of her chest. She fidgets so fuckingcutely.
"I'll see you around?" Her voice breaks at the end, going up – making it sound like she's asking rather than tellingme.
I smirk and nod. “Anytime, Lovely.” She grimaces and then narrows her gaze on me as my hand touches the doorknob. Her phone rings and she stiffens, her back going ramrod straight, and a peculiar expression makes its way across her face before it drops into nothing but an apathetic mask. I turn, watching as Love pulls her phone from her pocket. It's not someone calling, I realize, it's a text message. Several if the repetitive dinging is anyclue.
She looks at the first couple of messages, and sucks in abreath.
"Everything okay?" Iask.
Her eyes meet mine again and there's something there that tells me whatever she's reading isnot okay. I silently urge her to reach for me, to ask for help. But I know she won't. She keeps saying we hardly know each other. I'm going to change that. Even if it's slow going, I'm going to make Love turn to me when she needs someone. I want herto.
When she shakes her head and simply tells me she has to go, I don't do anything. I don't ask her why. I don't offer to go with her. I'm not going to press the issue. Soon, but notyet.
9
Love
Iwalk quickly through the doors of the emergency room of Piedmont Medical Center. When I stop at the desk, there are two nurses – both on phones – sitting there. I wait impatiently for one to end her call. As soon as she does, the phone rings again. I grit my teeth as she holds up a single finger and answersit.
I turn my face away and realize I don't need her anymore. One of the pale blue curtains that allow emergency room patients some semblance of privacy is left half open, and I see Trisha sitting there, her head tilted back, staring up at the ceiling. Her arm is already wrapped. I stride over to her, and she looks up when I pull the rest of the curtainback.
"What happened?" Idemand.
She waves the hand that isn’t wrapped. "It was nothing," she says. "It's not toobad."
"That's not what your friend texted me," Isay.
Trish stiffens and looks away. "Holly was just freaking out. I couldn't drive so I called her. The doctor said it's not a complete break. Just a hairline fracture. I just asked her to call you to give me a ride since she hasclass."
"And how did that happen?" I ask, taking a seat in the only chair available. The rush and noise of people outside the room has me standing back up to pull the curtain closed again. Before I can yank it around completely, a petite Asian woman stops me, dressed in scrubs and a doctor’s white lab coat. She slips by me and picks up the clipboard on the end of thebed.
"Good afternoon," she says. "My name is Dr. Sato. I'll be your attending physician today. Can you tell me whathappened?"
