Page 102 of Not Dating Material

Molly:

Sure did. X

I hesitate before sending one letter.

Me:

X

Then I tuck my phone in my pocket and get on with my day, pretending like my guts haven’t been pumped full of helium.

* * *

I end up working back on overtime, which I desperately need but hate every second of, so it’s dark by the time I pull up back at home. My nails have been bitten back to stumps, and it takes me a full minute to climb out of my car and go inside.

I have no doubts Molly was serious about attacking me the second I walked in the door, and my want for it is about equal to not wanting it. Things would be so much easier if I didn’t feel anything beyond friendship for him because I’d be able to keep the lines clear. Set him straight. Only every time I think about telling him he’s ready to go off and date and see if he can find his man, my lungs shrivel up and make it hard to breathe.

Emotions: turning even the most black-hearted people into embarrassments.

My whole body is braced when I open the front door and step inside. There’s noise coming from down the hall, so I kick off my shoes, wondering if I’ll have time to dump my things, when Molly jogs down the stairs.

“You’re home, yay!” Then he launches himself into my arms.

“Oomf.” I only just catch him. “What the—”

“Hi.”

“Yeah. Hi. Umm, any reason you’re trying to crash tackle me into the wall?”

He laughs and slides off me. “Just excited to see you.”

My face scrunches up. “Why? No one’s ever excited to see me.”

“Sounds like it was long overdue, then.”

“Riiight.”

I take in the way he’s got his hands tucked in his pockets, shoulders tense and lips downcast. His body language is at complete odds with how happy he’s sounded in his messages. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Totally.”

Part of me doesn’t want to push and have him throw up feelings all over me, but the other part is genuinely concerned. If Xander thinks he’d gut me for hurting him, I’d literally tear someone to shreds if they made him look like this. “You’re lying.”

“Not really.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Molly.”

“Fine.” His face falls. “Can I … Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Ah …”

“Not sex. Just in your bed. I’ll keep my hands to myself and everything.”

“Geez. It must be serious if you’re promising to behave yourself.”

He gives me a hopeful smile that doesn’t reach even half the enthusiasm of his usual ones. My protectiveness over him flares to life, overriding everything else.

“Yeah, just let me grab dinner and a shower first.”

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