Page 14 of The Seven Month Itch
Relief proves to be a tease when I flip the page and see two activities that will earn her a swift kick to the crotch. Speed datinganda private dinner.
No. No. No.
A knock at the door interrupts my anxiety and the urge to pack my bags. “Coming!”
My lips part when I open the door and see Terrence. He freezes, his eyebrows in full retreat to his hairline.
I swallow the strange desire to sniff the air that now smells like his aftershave. My words fumble. “W-what are you doing here?” It’s a question I seem to have on repeat.
He opens his mouth but snaps it shut and scans me from head to toe. This man’s gaze overwhelms me so much, I pat my stomach to make sure I have on clothes.Stop undressing me with your eyes.
Knee-length socks.
A black tank.
Flannel pajama shorts.
Yup, still dressed.
My hair is up in a messy bun, courtesy of an oversize scrunchie, and my face is makeup-free. I stand a little taller and wait for an explanation. He’s not at my door to discuss fashion.
Based on his deer-in-headlights performance, it’s clear he didn’t mean to come here. He glances around as if the person he wants to see will appear.
“My bad. I thought you were someone else. I mean, I thought someone else would be here.”
I fold my arms across my chest.Hold it together. You knew this would happen. “What’s the room number?”
“734.”
“This is744.“ I point to the door. “That room is down the hall.”
He runs a hand through his bed hair of wild curls. Or is it sex hair? Either way, it’s a tell that he’s uncomfortable—the hair-rubbing, that is. There’s no mistaking the woman’s shawl in his hand. God only knows who it belongs to and what they did.
It does look like sex hair.
Stop it.
I gesture to his hand. “Seems like you made a connection last night.”
His caramel skin turns a guilty shade of red. He shoots his arm behind his back like I didn’t see the mystery woman’s shawl. “I talked with someone last night. We got drinks at the bar, but that’s all that happened.” He coughs. “What about you? Long night?” His weight shifts from one foot to the other.
Single Terrence is dangerous. He’s a guy with the body of a model who is nice—shy at times, like right now. A guy who will look at you like you’re the only person in the room. A guy who will invest the time to learn more about you to make dates more memorable. A guy who will lick you into paralysis.
I could lie. Part of me wants to, at the thought of him with another woman, but for some reason, I don’t. Call it my mother’s voice in my head that yells,You better not!or the fact that it’s too early for this nonsense. I don’t want him to think I’m jealous. Because I’m not.
Really, I’m not.
I shake my head. “I left early.”
Approval reflects in his eyes, which drop to the floor. A smile spreads. Is he nervous?
“I’m surprised. Then again, you do wake up early.”
For a split second, I forget the man in front of me knows me so well. I am an early riser and like to start my day with quiet time and devotions before the chaos. Terrence would sleep in most mornings after one of his many business trips, exhausted from the travel and the welcome-home sex.
Sex.
Like his questionable sex hair.
