Page 46 of Pretty Obsessed

“I was thinking about you today.” I felt power in the admission. He’d hiked up here for me, and I wanted him to know it wasn’t in vain. “A lot. An obsessive amount,” I whispered in return.

“Have you?” This seemed to please him.

“Yes.”

He helped me out of my shirt. “I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

“I still can’t believe you found me.”

“When there is a will…and lots of money.” He kissed me again then softer, less desperate. Playing it off, but it was more than that. I knew how impossible I was to find up here.

“It had to be a lot of work.”

He searched my face, like a response sat on the tip of his tongue but he held it back.

“Tell me what you’re not sure you should say,” I said. “Please.”

“I was devastated when I woke up alone.” His words were clipped. Hesitant.

“I didn’t think you’d want me there when you woke, to be honest.” I let my vulnerability show, hoping it would encourage him to do the same.

“Does my coming up here change your opinion of what I’d want?” The green piercing eyes that had drawn me to him in the club gave me their full focus again.

“Yes,” I admitted even if I still didn’t understand it.

“I don’t put this much effort into one night.” He matched my vulnerability and there was not much more attractive.

“And you hiked five miles in the snow. Alone.” I said softly, realizing all he’d done to ensure he saw me again.

“I am a determined person.”

“And you wanted to find me?” The why was implied. Or I hoped he understood what I was getting at. He could fuck anyone, why was he on my doorstep again? I dealt in logic and finding me a second night at the club was something, but this was a whole other level. I didn’t know how to handle it. It was flattering at the least.

“You’re worth finding, Emory.” He was a sweet talker, too.

It was the perfect thing for him to say and I was speechless. There was no way I was going to be able to focus on writing again for the rest of the night. I had to make some sense of what was in front of me before my brain short-circuited trying to figure it out. I would start to create stories in my head to explain the behavior if I didn’t piece it out.

But he kept kissing me, and words were getting harder and harder and further and further away.

I forced myself back, breaking the kiss, trying to detangle us. “I’m sorry.”

A frown took over his face, changing his dark features. “What are you apologizing for, Emory?”

“I’m spiraling.”

“How come?”

“Because you just showed up here. It’s like some kind of big gesture and I just… it doesn’t add up to me. Why would you show up here?”

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” he asked.

“That’s beside the point—”

He cut me off. “Answer the question please.”

“Of course I did.”

“Do you think I enjoyed myself?”

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