Page 47 of From West, With Regret

Conversation with who?I wonder.

His expression relaxes, no longer teasing. It’s then I notice the weight of today in his body. I shouldn’t care who he talks to or what calls he makes and takes. But curiosity digs at me, and Ido care. I decide not to ask though, since it really isn’t my business.

Silence swells inside the tiny space, and his heat surrounds me.

Realizing how close we are, I take a step back, but it’s of no use. I’m met with the open shelf behind me that my portfolio sits on. I reach behind me and grip onto the shelf’s metal edge.

“What’s in the bag?” He nods toward the dress hanging off the shelf, but his eyes catch my attention, tormented and weighted by the thoughts going on in his mind.

“Oh.” Heat fills my cheeks as I nervously glance toward the bag. “It’s a dress Julianna lent me for girls’ night this weekend. I didn’t have time to try it on or stop by Selene’s apartment to drop it off.”

His jaw twitches as he stares at the bag before he finally tears his eyes away.

“Here,” I say, wanting to change the subject. “I’ll show you what I’ve been working on.” I move to turn around but can’t with how close he is.

His eyes flash under the dim lighting as he looks around. “We need to find another solution for your studio.”

“It’s fine, really,” I brush him off. “I’ve worked under worse conditions.”

“Oh, really?” He raises his eyebrows, revealing more of his blue eyes. His beard is noticeably shorter than every other time I’ve seen him. With every day that passes, he’s sharing more and more of his face with me, and that thought makes my heart leap in my chest.

“Yes.” I suck in a breath.

His eyes fall to my mouth.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He lowers his voice.

“It’s the truth. In college, I once drew all of my assignments under my bed for nearly the whole semester.”

“Why?”

“Because my roommate was never shy about bringing over her boyfriends, and she had a lot of them.”

“Huh. Why didn’t you just tell her it made you uncomfortable?”

“I did, but she didn’t care. For a while, I would just escape and draw somewhere else, but I refused to give up my side of the room just so she could have sex. I thought if I hung around enough, she would get the hint and stop.”

“And did she?” He’s standing so close to me, his chest is only inches from mine, that his heat pours into me, and my eyes fall to his necklace. The flash of the memory of dirt-covered hands flickers in my mind. I blink it away.

“At first,” I answer. “But then she stopped caring whether I was there or not.”

He laughs as the corners of his mouth lift. “What did you do then?”

“I put in my ear buds.” I point to my ear still filled with music. My playlist is still going, playing barely above a whisper.

“I’m curious.” He raises his hand. His fingertips graze the shell of my ear, and I practically melt. My entire body tingles, and my nipples harden under my thin Nirvana T-shirt. Suddenly, I’m aware of how I look. My long hair is piled loosely on top of my head, barely held together by my favorite green silk scrunchie. Having only taken the time this morning to put on one coat of mascara and a miniscule eyeliner wing, my face is practically bare. I know it looks like I’ve rolled out of bed, but West doesn’t seem to mind.

I’m frozen, knowing we’re crossing into new territory. We’re testing the boundaries. The teasing thrill burning in his eyes tells me as much. Then again, I think we already crossed into itthe other day on the yacht. I teased him. I pushed the boundaries because I crave his touch. I’ve never been touched by him, but it feels as if I’m missing it. How do you miss something you never had? How do you crave someone you’ve never been with?

Everything I’m feeling is thrilling and new, like I’m suddenly eighteen and losing my virginity all over again.

“What do you listen to when you work?” West’s smile never wavers as he plucks the bud from my ear before placing it into his.

I hold my breath. No one has ever cared to know what I listen to when I work.

I place the bud resting in my hand back into my other ear.

“Pretty Slowly” by Benson Booneplays quietly, and we stare at each other for a few beats, listening.

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