Page 14 of Uxpectedly Ever After

"You didn't have to say it. Your actions said it loud and clear." The cool night air does absolutely nothing to cool down my simmering frustration. "I've been dealing with obnoxious, drunk guys since I started bartending. I don't need you charging in like some goddamn white knight."

"It wasn't about you needing me, Clover." His voice is low and careful, like he's trying really hard not to piss me off more. "It was about me not being able to just stand there and watch some jackass disrespect you like that. Especially when he put his hands on you."

"But that's exactly the goddamn problem!" I whirl around to face him, the words exploding out of me. "You don't get to decide when I need protecting, Banks! Just because you're bigger and stronger doesn't give you the right to step in whenever the hell you feel like it!"

"That's not what this is about, Clover."

"Oh, really? Then enlighten me. What’s it about?"

Banks stops walking, his expression shifting, hardening into this fierce, almost possessive look that makes the tiny hairs on my arms stand up. "It's about the fact that I've been looking out for you since you were seventeen years old. Don't expect me to suddenly stop now."

I stare at him, my mouth hanging slightly open, completely and utterly speechless for a second. "What in the actual hell are you talking about?"

He runs a frustrated hand through his already messy hair. "Why do you think those entitled frat guys suddenly left you alone your freshman year? Or why the bartender at O'Malley's who wouldn't take no for an answer suddenly found a job across town? Or why your handsy Econ professor took that unexpected 'sabbatical'?"

The pieces of the puzzle click into place with this sickeningly clearthunkin my brain.

"You've been… interfering in my life?" My voice rises with each word, going from disbelief to full-blown fury in about two seconds flat. "Behind my back?"

"I promised Kasen I’d look out for you, okay?" He takes a step closer, backing me right up against the brick wall of a café that’sclosed for the night. The rough brick scrapes against my back through my thin shirt. "After your mom died, he was worried about you. Said you’d gotten reckless, that you were taking all kinds of stupid risks."

"So what? You've been my secret bodyguard all these years?" Anger surges through me, hot and furious, and I've never wanted to punch someone in the face more in my entire life. "Do you have any freaking idea how unbelievably insulting that is?"

"It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like? Please, enlighten me."

His hands come up, pressing against the brick wall on either side of my head, effectively trapping me. His body is so close I can feel the heat radiating off him, smell that familiar mix of fresh air and smoke that clings to his skin, mixed with his delicious cologne. His eyes drop to my mouth, and for one heart-stopping, terrifying moment, I think he's going to kiss me. My lips part involuntarily, my breathing going shallow and uneven as I desperately try to remember all the very good reasons why that would be a catastrophic idea.

"I promised your brother I'd protect you," he says, his voice dropping to this low, rough whisper that sends a shiver straight down my spine. "But don't for one goddamn second think that's the only reason I can't keep my eyes off you." His gaze flickers back up to mine, and there's a raw intensity in his eyes that makes my knees feel a little weak. "There's nothing brotherly about what goes through my head every single time you walk into a room, Clover James."

My breath catches in my throat. The anger that was just boiling inside me suddenly turns into something else—something hot and undeniable that’s begging me to reach out and close the small distance between his body and mine. His admission hangs in the cool night air between us, andho-ly shit.

I can feel his breath ghosting across my face, see the frantic pulse hammering in his throat. If either of us dared to move even an inch, our lips would be touching. The mere possibility sends a jolt of pure electricity through my entire body, making me hyper-aware of every single point where we're almost, but not quite, making contact.

Before I can decide what I’m going to do, he abruptly pushes himself away from the wall and starts walking again, leaving me standing there frozen in place while I try to get my shit together.

"You coming, Freckles?" he calls over his shoulder, his voice rough around the edges. Yeah, he was just as affected by that as I was. Am.

I follow him in stunned silence, my mind racing a mile a minute as I try to make sense of the bomb he just dropped. Did Banks Freaking Priestly just confess to having actual, non-brotherly thoughts about me? After years of teasing me and basically treating me like his little sister? After apparently playing some kind of secret guardian angel in the shadows of my life?

We reach my apartment building without exchanging another word. The silence between us is thick enough to cut with a knife, charged with everything that was just said and everything that was left hanging in the air. Every step feels like navigating a minefield of emotions I am so not equipped to handle. Banks unlocks the door and holds it open for me, his hand lingering on the doorknob. I brush past him, totally tuned it to every single molecule of air that separates our bodies.

"Clover," he says quietly as I make a beeline for my bedroom.

I pause in the doorway, not even bothering to turn around. "I'm exhausted, Banks. Whatever this is, it can wait until tomorrow." And honestly, I don’t think I’m strong enough to stop tonight if we get close to each other again. I need to rebuild my defenses.

Thankfully, for once, he doesn't push. "Good night, then."

I close my bedroom door behind me and lean against it, letting out a shaky breath. "Well, Mojito," I mutter to the sword fern plant thriving on my windowsill, "your girl is officially in deep, deep shit." I've been having one-sided conversations with my plants since college—partly because some study I vaguely remember said it helps them grow, but mostly because they're the only living things I know who don't talk back or judge my questionable life choices. "I can't keep doing this. He's everywhere. Touching everything. Looking at me like… like…" I trail off, realizing I'm gesturing wildly like some kind of lunatic.

Eventually I give up on working out my thoughts with my plant and crawl into bed. But does sleep come easy? Nope. Instead, I lie wide awake, staring blankly up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of Banks moving around in the other room. The quiet clink of a glass in the sink. The soft, almost silent padding of his bare feet across the living room floor. The groan of the futon as he settles his huge body onto it.

And then, of course, my brain decides this is the perfect time to start wondering what it would be like to have him in here with me. In my bed. With his hands all over me, his big, solid body pressing me down into the mattress, crowding me until he's the only damn thing I can see. The only thing I can feel.

God, what the hell is wrong with me?

The wall separating my bedroom from the living room suddenly feels thinner than a sheet of paper. He'sright there, just on the other side, probably lying awake too, staring up at the ceiling just like I am. Is he replaying what he said? About what could’ve happened if either of us decided to move even an inch?

---