Page 49 of Quarantine Crush
“I did,” I say, waving the stack of mail in my other hand.
“Where’d the rose come from then?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“I ran into Reed on my way down,” I say, crossing the room to sit at the bar. I turn my back to Knox as I begin sorting through the stack of bills and junk.
“And he just happened to be carrying a long-stemmed rose?”
I turn, leveling him with a glare, but his eyes are glued to his own computer screen. “Yes, because he was on his way here to ask me out.”
Knox stills. “What did you say?”
I shrug, feigning indifference. “I said I had to ask you.”
His head whips up, his eyes wide. “Why? I don’t have any say in who you date.”
“I never said that you did,” I snap back. “But you are staying here, and I thought it might be weird for you to see me sitting on the balcony on a date with him.”
“He can’t come over here,” Knox growls before quickly clearing his throat. “I mean, it’s against quarantine guidelines.”
I grit my teeth so hard I’m afraid they’re going to crack and count to ten before responding. “He’s not. He’d drop me off dinner, and we’d eat outside. He’d be on his balcony on the floor below us, and I’d be on ours. We’d do the whole thing over Facetime.”
A tick starts in Knox’s jaw, but he shrugs. “Whatever then.”
“So you can’t think of any reason why I should tell him no?” I ask, giving him one last chance.
“I guess not,” he bites out, refusing to meet my eyes.
A bone-deep sadness washes over me, making my voice sound raspy when I respond. “Then, I guess I have a date this Friday.”
* * *
The next fewdays are some of the most excruciating of my life. Each day, I emerge from my bedroom, dressed in an outfit specifically designed to torture Knox, and go to work. Some days, I sit at the bar alone while Knox’s eyes bore into me from the couch. Other days, we work side by side on the balcony in silence. Aside from the few times I catch him staring at me, Knox pretends as if I’m wearing something as appealing as a potato sack. Which is complete shit because I bring out the big guns. A lace bustier and cutoff shorts that once got me invited to The Hamptons.The freaking Hamptons!My skimpiest bikini that Hadley swears was once responsible for a car accident. The sexy dress I wear when I don’t want to have to pay for drinks. Nothing. Not a single one is enough to bring Knox to his knees. I even dig out my unicorn costume to check the mail one day, but Knox merely shakes his head and chuckles. That’s it.
The only time we even talk is to exchange jabs. However, even these have a sharper edge than our usual banter, and by the time Friday rolls around, I’m on the verge of bursting into tears–whether from anger or sadness, I’m not sure. Either way, I know I can’t do this for much longer. This is worse than pretending that first kiss didn’t mean anything. This feels like I’ve lost something. Something important that I can never, ever get back again. My heart hasn’t stopped aching all week.
Friday evening, I step out of the bathroom, my hair dangling in perfect, beachy waves down my back as I walk to where my outfit for tonight hangs from the floor-length mirror. I run my fingers over the supple fabric, imagining what Reed might be wearing to our virtual date.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t muster up an ounce of the normal first date excitement. In fact, I find myself wanting to get it over with, praying that once it’s over, some of the tension strangling my apartment will end as well. Damn Knox for ruining this for me.
I pull the dress from its hanger and slip it on, cinching the strings on each side of the silky, black fabric to raise the hem as high as it will go. The dress bunches, accentuating my curves and making my legs look a mile long.
A small part of me finds it a little bit ironic that the dress Nina chose for Knox is finally getting its moment with another man.
The doorbell rings as I’m putting the finishing touches on my makeup. With one last fluff of my hair, I turn, ready to go on my first, and hopefully last, social distance date.
Knox is barely closing the front door when I make it to the front hall, a covered plate of food in each hand and a bottle of wine tucked underneath his arm. He stops, finally noticing me at the end of the hall. The undisguised appreciation in his gaze has my blood heating, my traitorous body refusing to give up on him. Even now, seconds away from my first date with someone else.
“Thanks,” I say, taking a tentative step forward and reaching out to take the plates. Knox holds them with a white-knuckled grip that doesn’t loosen as my fingers brush his, so I pull the plates from his hands and turn my back on him.
With one last shaky breath, I force myself to put one foot in front of the other–walking away from Knox like he walked away from me all those years ago.
15
Knox
Emy is slowly killing me–and I know she’s doing it on purpose. I recognized her game the moment she started playing it, and that awareness alone is all that’s kept me from giving in. But I can feel my control slipping a little further with each new day. Maybe it’s the fact that she keeps upping the ante with these damn skintight outfits and skimpy swimsuits. Who the fuck wears a bikini to chill around the house?
My Emy, that’s who.
