Page 42 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

He looks at me, and I almost flinch from the intensity of his regard.

"I'm sorry."

Those aren't words I expect him to say. I turn to him. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

"For what?"

"For how I am," he says. "I make you uncomfortable, don't I?"

"No," I lie, even nervously laughing. "I'm just nervous because...well, I don't really want to make small talk."

"You seemed to manage it with Jake."

"Well, Jake is Jake."

"Yeah," he says with a wistful sigh. "I'm not like Jake. I'm not good with women, and I don't know how to put people at easejust by talking to them. In fact, talking is usually the wrong choice for me."

My heart melts, and empathy arises. "Yeah, I know how you feel."

"You do?"

I nod. "Talking is often the wrong choice for me, too. I mean, I learned how to do it, essentially mimicking others so that I could pretend to be like them, but most of the time, when I'm by myself, I overthink every single thing I just said and think about how it could be misinterpreted."

He nods. "Precisely. It's extra complicated because I was mute for the first seven years of my life."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And then for years after that, I didn't make a single friend. So I was just silent for the most part. I was okay with it sometimes, and less okay with it other times. But in moments like this, I wish I had been more proactive."

"Why?"

"Because then I wouldn't make you uncomfortable," he says, and his gaze softens and darkens all at once. "I like you, Chelsea. A lot. It's not just physical for me, and because of that, it makes it hard for me to even know what to say. I had a whole plan coming in about how I was going to charm you and make you laugh and sweep you off your feet. Not just with the coffee thing, but also just with making jokes and being the cool guy. But I can't play it cool with you. I look at your eyes and forget my own name."

Shock renders me silent.

Oh God.

Did he just say that?

Did he mean it?

"That first night," he says. "I saw you standing there. I thought...maybe you were like me too. I wanted to talk to you, but I needed to build the nerve first, so I just watched you until I did."

"Oh, Sam..." I don't know what to say. How can he say it with a straight face? How can he look so gentle and kind and so fucking sweet? I want to hold him.

And now his face is getting closer.

I shouldn't.

Kissing him is a bad idea.

But I just can't help myself. He was just being so sweet.

I’ve never seen a man open up like that, show such vulnerability so quickly, and it was one that I related to. I, too, have often felt on the outside looking in, watching and trying to figure out how to behave in public. Trying to mimic other, more popular kids so that I would be more liked. It took me a while, too, to get comfortable in my skin.

The fact that such a gorgeous man has the same feelings is quite unbelievable, but I can’t doubt the look in his eyes when he told me that he did, and that he really likes me, and that was causing him to fumble around and retreat to silence because of his crippling awkwardness.