Page 82 of Thunderstruck
“Cole?”
There’s a measure of hurt in Carissa’s expression that’s pulling at my heart in a way I don’t like. Especially because I’m the one who put it there by withholding my thoughts. It’s probably better if I step back again. Keep my distance. Follow the rules.
“Hey.” Carissa slithers out from her junk food blanket and pads over to me, looking so vulnerable as she gazes up at me with those gold-flecked eyes. “I know you said Sage liked to read these kinds of books. I don’t usually—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, my voice rough. “You really can read about whoever you want. That has nothing to do with me.”
“I think it does, though.” She runs her hand down my arm, fingers light against my skin, and she pulls my hand from my pocket so she can lace our fingers together. “I don’t judge people who read that stuff, but most of the time it’s not for me. If that kind of thing bothers you, I’m fine to avoid it entirely. Especially if it reminds you of…you know.”
I frown, looking down at our hands. “Areyounot bothered?” I ask, almost desperate for her answer. “I tell you I’m interested in you, and then I go and compare you to a woman I shouldn’t be thinking about anymore. I’m as bad as Peter.”
To my shock, Carissa laughs, and the sound brightens the room. Warms me from the inside out. “First of all, if you were anything like Peter, you wouldn’t care that something reminding you of your ex—a woman you dated forfour years—might bother your friend that you’re definitely not dating. Second of all…” She reaches up and brushes her fingers through my hair, sending a shiver through me. “The man cheated on his wife with his physical therapist, who had no idea he had a family.”
Maybe I’m not a cheater, but that doesn’t mean I’m good for her. “But I’ll never be…” I shake my head. “I’m never going to be like the men in these books you read.”
She leans up on her toes, though we’re still nowhere close to the same height. She presses a hand to my chest to hold herself steady, and I amcompletely riveted on her words. “I’ll always like you better than the men in these books because you’rereal. And far more interesting.”
Leaning down, I’m desperate to give that declaration a proper response in the form of a kiss, but a stray piece of Funyun in her hair distracts me and holds me back. It’s for the best, though I don’t think I’ll look at the snack the same way as I pluck the piece from her hair. They’ll always make me think of her.
“Dangerous,” I murmur, amazed by how effortlessly she puts me at ease. “You are incredibly dangerous.”
“And you smell amazing,” she replies, unashamedly taking a deep breath. “I think I’ve gotten too used to your post-practice smell. Or maybe the smell of the other guys temporarily killed my scent sensors.”
I groan and step back. “Nice mood killer.”
“I do my best.” She tilts her head again, studying me. “Is there a reason you broke into my apartment tonight? One that wasn’t getting me to confess how much I like you?”
“That was the main reason.” But I smile and shake my head, returning my hands to my pockets before I get any ideas about pulling her back into my personal space. “Or I wanted to make sure you’re okay after that article.”
Shrugging, she looks into the kitchen, where her phone is sitting on the counter. “I’m good now.”
“Now?”
“Kasey talked me down, and the article really wasn’t that bad. But it triggered some memories.”
“Theme of the day,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. I’d be a lot happier if memories of Sage didn’t ruin things for me. “If you’re okay, I’ll get out of your hair. Like the Funyuns.”
Her intoxicating laugh fills the room once more, and I soak it up before turning to let myself out. “Wait,” she says. “You can stay. If you want.”
I clench my jaw. I do want, but… “That’s a bad idea.”
“Probably.” Carissa smirks and points to an armchair that’s just as gray and lifeless as the couch. While the apartment is nice, it doesn’t have any verve, and I can’t imagine Carissa living here long term. She doesn’t fit this place. “You can keep to the chair if you decide to stay. I’ll stay on the couch.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And what am I supposed to do while sitting in the chair?” It’s not like I’m going to argue with her plan, whatever it is. This goes against our rules, but I’m happy to take any time with Carissa that I can get. Wherever she does belong, I hope it’s close to me.
She looks around thoughtfully, then digs into a canvas tote and pulls out another book with a cartoon cover. I wrinkle my nose as she hands it to me, and she laughs. “This one is really good, I promise. It doesn’t have any spicy scenes, and the main characters are both personal trainers who pretend they’re not totally into each other. They get pulled into a fake relationship because of social media.”
I roll the book over in my hand. “Sounds familiar.”
Carissa’s voice turns mischievous. “And the guy is scared to love because everyone leaves him.”
I look up, eyebrows lifting high. “Maybe too familiar.”
Snickering, she settles back on the couch and picks up a different book from the hockey one. I appreciate that more than I can say. “Andhe has anxiety,” she adds before opening the new book and diving in.
I settle in the armchair, curious what kind of book Carissa usually reads. I’m more intrigued by the character’s similarities to me than I care to admit, and if Carissa likes this book, I want to at least give it a try.
There are a lot of things I’d like to do for Carissa.
