Page 60 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
I pull into my driveway and we unload the car. As much as he’s able without knowing where things go, he helps me put things away.
“Do you have a vacuum for the car?”
“I do. It’s in that closet by the stairs,” I say, pointing.
“I don’t know where anything else goes in here, but I can vacuum out the sand.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say, pleasantly surprised.
By the time he comes back in, I’ve finished putting everything away.
“Do you want a glass of wine before I go?” he asks.
“That would be nice.”
I give him the bottle opener and get two wine glasses. Silently, he pours the wine into our glasses. He hands a glass to me, takes his glass and the bottle of wine, and walks toward the back porch.
“The sky is pretty tonight,” he says, stepping onto the porch.
“Twilight is my favorite time of day.” I sit on one side of my swing, leaving room for him.
“Why’s that?” he asks, sitting back into the swing next to me.
“I love a beautiful sunset, but twilight is like the last few seconds before you fall asleep at night. You fluff your pillow.” I fluff a pillow and hug it to my chest, curling my leg under me. “Wiggle around and get comfortable, and start to quiet your mind. Then there’s that blissful few seconds where you’re not asleep, but not awake, just at peace. At twilight, that’s when the colors morph from bright and brilliant to soft and celestial.” I sip my wine.
“I love how you describe things. This is why you’re such a good writer. The way you use words conveys emotion.”
I smile.
He looks out to the ocean. “You leave tomorrow.”
“Yes, after I help my mom in the morning.”
“Are you going to be okay on the plane?”
He remembered.“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll pack my emergency medicine.”
“Okay, good. Please text me when you arrive so I know you got there safely. Otherwise, I’ll worry the whole weekend.”
I’m so confused. I felt his energy shift throughout the day from friendship, to almost seductive, to tender, to detached. And now he’s going to worry about me? What’s going through his head?
He excuses himself and walks down to the shoreline. Though the sky is darkening, I can see the smoke trail out of him.
We spend the next hour making small talk about what Candi and I will do in Hawaii, what he’ll do back here, and then we confirm our plans for our trip to San Diego when I get back.
As the sun kisses the top of the horizon, we finish the bottle of wine. I shouldn’t have had the second glass, especially after having had some at dinner.
“I should let you get to packing,” he says, standing up and holding out his hand toward me.
I take his hand, uncurl my leg, and rise from the swing. At a leaden pace, we go back into the house and put our wine glasses and empty bottle in the kitchen.
We stand face to face in our usual spot in the foyer.
“Thank you,” he says, taking the end of my ponytail, that was lying on my chest, in his hand. He watches his fingers twirl my hair, then returns his gaze to my eyes. “I had a nice time with you today.” The low, hushed timbre of his voice sends a chill up my spine.
“You’re welcome. I enjoyed being with you, Nicco.”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “I don’t want to leave. But I know I can’t stay.”
