Page 44 of False Start

I hear footsteps after I knock, and what sounds like a sigh before the door opens.

He looks good.Painfullygood.He's wearing the hell out of some ripped jeans that are slung so low on his hips, I can see the deep ridges peeking from beneath his thin t-shirt. I've licked them more than once on my way to the prize below. His hair is mussed, falling haphazardly around his ears and into his eyes. But it's his face that makes my stomach sink. It's wearing a frown.

"Can I come in?" I ask, sheepishly. He jerks a nod and steps back to let me enter his apartment. He goes immediately to the fridge for a beer; that doesn't seem like a good sign.

"I wasn't sure you'd be home," I start, feeling suddenly awkward despite the pep talk I gave myself on the way over.Maybe this was a bad idea."I—I know you have your family dinner on Sundays."

"That's not until six," he answers. He hasn't moved closer to me, still leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.Yikes.He'smad.

"I just came from brunch with Maya and Tiffany," I explain. "They were teasing me about how I haven't been around these past few weeks. Tiff even said she's noticed some sparks between us at the center."

Cory takes a swig from his beer but says nothing.

"Anyway, Tiffany was telling us about how things didn't work out with someone she really liked. And in my head, I'm like,that's just dating in New York; it can be so soul-destroying sometimes. It's hard to find someone you even want to hang with, let alone commit to." I move closer to him.

"But then I thought about you. And how we've been spending so much time together lately." He unfolds his arms. "And how you were the first person I wanted to talk to when Cynthia died. You didn't even try to fuck me that night."

"Why would I try to fuck you when you were clearly hurting, D? Is that the kind of man you think I am?"

I can feel the anger radiating off of him, but I still risk stepping closer.

"To be honest, it's the kind of man I assumeeveryguy is. Not just you." He shakes his head, but I take his hand in mine. "But I wasn't paying attention. I was just going off what it's been in the past. I didn't notice things were different with you until the morning after last time."

"Yeah, and you bolted," he grouses, but he doesn't yank his hand away.

"You're right. I didn't know how to handle it. You were just supposed to be a booty call."

"Well, I'm sorry, Denise. I like you more than a booty call."

I step closer and put my hand on his cheek.

"I like you more than a booty call, too. Like…waymore." His jaw softens and his rigid posture relaxes. "I don't know for sure what's happening between us, but I know it's more than just a late night hookup."

I lean forward and kiss his collar bone—the highest point I can reach. He lowers until our foreheads touch, breathing me in deep.

"It's more than that for me, too."

He kisses my cheek first, then my neck, and finally my lips. It's a sweet, almost heartbreaking kiss, and so much more intense than our usual frenzied make-out sessions. It's full of all the emotions I'm too chickenshit to say.

"Does this mean we're, like…togethertogether?" he asks. Hope is etched into the lines of his face. I want to say yes. I want to give him what he's obviously desperate for. But…

"I think we should hold off on the labels," I hedge.

He sighs, disappointed. I pull his face down until we're eye to eye. Then I kiss him again.

"I care about you. You're the only person I'm seeing, and the only person Iwantto see."

"I feel the same way," he replies against my lips.

"So let's let that be enough. We'll keep seeing each other, keep having the same hot sex with just each other. Only now, we don't have to pretend there aren't any feelings between us."

"And you won't run off every time things get too heavy?"

I wince.

"I can admit I've been a bit skittish."

Cory rolls his eyes.

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