Page 15 of Puck Me Secretly

“I know.”

“I believed you.”

“That was the point.”

I sat back and processed that. Max had believed we would die, but he spent his last moments trying to comfort me and make me believe we’d be okay.

“Why would you do that?”

He shrugged. “Atonement?”

What did that mean? I realized I needed to rethink my stance on bossy men. I had assumed they were all one dimensional, but this man felt like a jigsaw puzzle. “I don’t understand you.”

He didn’t answer, but I didn’t expect him to. I looked anywhere but at him. I suppose I should go back to my room, but I dreaded being alone.

“You want to watch a movie?”

I lifted my eyes back at him. “Here?”

He shrugged.

I answered by kicking off my shoes and climbing up the bed. “Youpick.”

After the first movie,we ordered room service. I had a burger with fries, he had a steak with salad. Other than exchange light banter about the movie, we didn’t speak. We were two survivors who didn’t want to face the aftermath alone. Or maybe it was just me who didn’t want to be alone, and he was atoning for more unknown sins. I didn’t question it. He kept me company, and I refrained from pumping him with questions.

After our meal, we both resettled back on the bed. Stretched out beside me, assuming I would stay for another movie, he flipped through the movies. I was an independent person, so I couldn’t quite reconcile myself to this need to not be alone.

“What do you want to watch?”

“You pick, I’ll watch anything.”

He picked a popular box office movie I had already seen, but I didn’t tell him that. The movie started and failed to hold my attention. The man, that lay beside me with his hand tucked behind his head, was all I could think about. Questions burned my mind. Who was he? What kind of job did he have? If he told me he had an office job, it would surprise me, but he didn’t strike me as someone who did manual labor. Maybe he worked as a fireman. But would a fireman transfer to another city to work?

The question came out of me before I could stop it. “Are you American?”

Blue eyes shifted towards me. “Canadian.”

“Oh. Were you working in the US?”

His eyes moved back to the television, letting me know he didn’t want to talk about himself. “Yes.”

“I loved living in New York. Have you ever lived in Vancouver?”

“No.”

“I was born and raised there.”

“Do you want a different movie?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s fine.” I forced myself to lie back and remain quiet. I tied my hair in a knot on my head. I scratched my arm. I fluffedmy pillow.

He paused the movie and rolled over onto his side, his head propped up by his arm. “What’s going on?”

“What!”

“You’re restless.”

I stared at his gorgeous face. “Don’t you want to talk?”

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