Page 70 of Perfect Distraction
Lauren: Hi.
Andrew perked up immediately. She’d never texted him first. Plus, she’d been distant in the two weeks since his last chemo treatment, and he’d been miserable. He’d been concerned after seeing her talking to that nurse but had decided not to ask her about it. What if there was something going on between them? If there was, was it even Andrew’s business? She wasn’t his girlfriend, and he had no right to question her.
He also worried he had been too forward that day, too honest about the way he felt…and with Jeni there to hear it all. Though he’d kind of thought it would make Lauren feel better that there was a witness. To ensure he kept to his word and didn’t act on his constant desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
Andrew:Hey you.
Lauren:Chemo tomorrow?
Andrew: Yep. Second to last one. *fist pump*
Lauren:That’s great. I’m going to Children’s on Saturday, but in the afternoon. Did you want to come?
Andrew hadn’t been back as a volunteer since that first day with Lauren. It had gotten to him more than he thought it would, and he’d made excuses to avoid going. But he’d thought about Jasmine a lot and wanted to try again.
Andrew:Yes. What time?
Lauren: I’ll pick you up at 1:45.
Andrew: Sounds good. You doing okay? Haven’t talked to you much.
Lauren: I know, sorry. I’m good. I’ll see you Saturday, okay?
Did that mean he wouldn’t be seeing her tomorrow at the cancer center? He hoped not, but he didn’t want to push it. He’d be with her Saturday, and he’d take what he could get.
Andrew:Yeah, see you Saturday.
It started to snow as he stood outside waiting for her, and she picked him up at exactly a quarter till two. When the first few minutes were strained with an air of awkwardness, Andrew said, “Do we need to talk about my bowel movements? Will that loosen things up between us?”
Lauren laughed so hard, Andrew had to reach over and take the steering wheel to keep them on the road.
“Don’t do that,” she chastised, still giggling. “Not while I’m driving, and it’s snowing.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said with a smile. “I didn’t think you’d find it so funny. You have asked about that before, you know.” In a more serious tone, he asked, “Is everything okay? You’ve seemed…different these last two weeks.”
Her laughter slowed, and she looked…guilty? Ashamed? He wasn’t certain. “You noticed, huh?”
He lifted an eyebrow to say, Hell yes, I noticed.
“I’m sorry. I just…” she trailed off.
“Did I say something to upset you? Scare you off? If I did, I’m sorry. I just figured we both know what’s going on here and how we feel. Even though we can’t do anything about it, we might as well be honest—”
“I disagree.”
He frowned. “With which part?”
“Verbalizing how we feel about each other makes it that much harder to keep things under control.” She halted and swallowed, like she was hesitant to continue.
Please don’t stop. I want this to spiral out of control more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
She stopped at the entrance of the parking garage and looked him straight in the eye. “When you say things about how nice I look or that you want to spend time with me, it makes it nearly impossible for me to hide how I feel.”
She pulled forward, and he wanted to point out that she was the first one to comment on his appearance that day and had basically undressed him with her eyes. He shifted in his seat, remembering the look in her eyes.
He was also tempted to say that she had looked exceptionally beautiful, wearing that black sweater that clung to her curves and her vibrant hair loose and begging for his hands to bury themselves in the thick mass.
“I’m sorry about that.” No, I’m not. “I’m not trying to put you in a bad spot. I’m not used to having to keep that kind of thing hidden, and it’s not easy. I want you to know what I’m thinking. And”—he pulled at the edge of the red hat he wore—“I don’t want you to hide it.”
