Page 111 of Love Sick

He spares a quick glance at my legs, and satisfaction ripples through me. “There’s no improving upon perfection,” he says.

I hide my smile while he returns to the cutting board. His strong long-fingered hand grasps the knife and slices through another lime. He drops one half in the squeezer and fills a measuring cup with the juice, then does the same with the other. The moves are practiced and quick. Efficient.

The man is so good with his hands. An immature teenager fanning herself inside my head tells me to slap him on the shoulder and giggle.

I’m such a terrible flirt. How on earth did I manage to snare him?

I clear a thick sensation from my throat. “Where’d you learn to make this?”

He slices another lime. “My ex. She was…difficult. But she made great drinks.”

I pick at the hem of my dress and lie to myself that I don’tcarewhether Julian has been with other women. “When did you break up?”

He sets the knife down and his dark eyes lift to meet mine. “Before I moved here. She wasn’t interested in long distance.”

My heart trips. “Were you interested in long distance? With her?”

“Nope.”

The jealous creature within rejoices.

I dig my fingernail into the skin of my knee over and over, forming crescents. “What time are they supposed to be here?”

Out of my peripheral vision, Julian shrugs. “Kai said around eight.”

The clock on his oven reads 7:23 p.m. Thirty-seven minutes alone. Why aren’t we making out?

He rinses his hands and leans against the stove as he dries them, considering me with a tilted head. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

He runs his teeth over his lower lip. “I know there’s been interest. Is there a reason you never dated anyone here before me?”

An uncomfortable thread of ice slithers through my veins. I’m not ready for this conversation. I’ll never be ready for it. Does he really need to know?

“Well, the rumors make it hard for me to trust anyone,” I say, hedging. “Like Trevor. I thought—”

He winces. “Yeah. Okay. That makes sense.”

“But,” I add, “I haven’t been on a date since second year of medical school.”

He crosses his arms. “Why not?”

My attention drifts to the cabinets above his head. “That’s when my last boyfriend broke up with me.”

“What?” He lets out a small laugh. “Why on earth would he do that?”

The bewilderment on his face is disarming, and my insides cheer at the idea that Julian Santini can’t imagine breaking up with me. The truth falls from my mouth before I can stop it. “He said I was cold.”

His eyes narrow. “Cold?”

Agitation compels me to explain more than I need to, and words pour from my mouth. Terrible words. Despicable words. Words I can never take back. “I mean…he said I was like…distant. Um. Wait. That’s not—he just meant—like…unresponsive.”Oh god. Stop talking.“Like…because of how I get nervous. And sometimes… I worry about being good at—”

Julian’s expression hardens. He’s staring, frozen, jaw sharp.

I can’t stop filling the awkward silence. “I didn’t want to seem uninterested. I told him I wanted—like, guidance, or something. I was willing to learn. But I get nervous I’ll do something wrong and it was hard for me to—you know, like,get there, sometimes. Then he got…weird. Spiteful. Oh my god. Why am I still talking?”

It’s like fucking an ice queen.

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