Page 73 of Play For Me

“But—”

“I’m gonna go now,” I interrupt. “I’ll call you when I’m back in town.”

“Okay.” Her voice is tight, and I know I haven’t done much to ease her worries. But hopefully it’s enough to keep her from calling again to check in.

“Bye, Em.” I end the call before she has a chance to say anything else, then stand there, clutching my phone, not wanting to turn around and see whatever reaction Cecelia has to that call.

“Maybe I should have brought some vodka to spike our soda with.”

I finally turn and see her watching me with a smile. She looks…sympathetic, I guess. Or understanding. Not pitying though. And she’s definitely not staring at me like I’m some kind of loser freak.

“My family can get all up in my business, too,” she says. Then she laughs. “Hell, I’m probably the worst one, honestly. I have a hard time sitting around when someone I care about is hurting.”

“Is that why you’re here?” I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. That’s pushing things way too far and?—

She shrugs. “I guess so. At least partly. But mostly I just wanted to hang out with you.”

I stare at her, waiting for the joke. Waiting for her to take it back.

She laughs at my expression. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Kind of.”

The laughter falls off her face, leaving growing annoyance. “You don’t think I like hanging out with you?”

I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face, and sink down to the edge of the bed. “I think it’s nice to have people in my life who want to help, but that I’m so fucking tired of being needy.”

Her voice is quiet. “I don’t think you’re needy.”

I laugh into my hands. “Cecelia, you had to bring me mac and cheese and a kid’s toy to cheer me up.”

“I happen to like mac and cheese.” Her voice is closer and I hear the soft sounds of her steps on the carpet. I open my eyes and find her standing in front of me, close enough to touch. “I’m serious, Sol. I’m not here to take care of you. Do I feel bad that your mom is apparently a raging bitch? Of course. But this is where I would have wanted to be even if I hadn’t witnessed that.”

She’s so close. With our height difference, her face is just above my eye level when sitting. Her pretty blue eyes are locked on mine, wide and a little fierce. And her hair—that gorgeous, silky brown hair that I always want to be touching is flowing down around her shoulders. Without thinking, I reach up and take a lock of it between my fingers. Her breath hitches a little, and my heart starts to pound.

“Wouldn’t you rather be out with your friends?” Her hair feels every bit as silken as I imagined. I want to gather it all up in my hands, bury my face in it, inhale the scent of peppermint that always seems to be clinging to her.

“No,” she says, her voice unsteady.

I shake my head. “You’re always surrounded by people. Always the center of everything. Laughing and talking, so fucking bright, wherever you go. A million miles away from me.”

Her hand comes up, hesitant, and then she’s cupping the side of my face. “I’m not a million miles away right now.”

I stare up into her face. “It’s so strange,” I mutter, more to myself than her. “One of the things my parents always lost theirshit about is how I never looked anyone in the eye.” Apparently, that made me rude. I was always sure it really bothered them because it was an unmistakable example of how different I was from other people.

I take more hair between my fingers, moving my hand until I’m cradling the back of her head. “But I never have a problem looking at your eyes.”

“Solomon,” she whispers.

“They’re just so fucking pretty,” I mutter, eyes scanning her face. “All of you, Cecelia. So ridiculously beautiful.”

“You’re wearing your glasses again,” she says softly, and I tilt my head, a little confused.

“Yeah. I didn’t want to bother with contacts. Didn’t sleep much, so my eyes were pretty tired.”

She’s staring at me so intently. “I like them,” she says, her cheeks getting pink, and it’s so damn cute I have to bite back a groan. “Your glasses, I mean. You look really, really good in glasses.”

My eyebrows go up. “I do?”