Page 50 of A Little Crush
He squeezes my hand again.
The locked and loaded excuse dies on my tongue, and my mouth bunches to one side. Sometimes I really hate how well he knows me, and it doesn’t help that his hand is still on my thigh, burning a hole through my jeans. It doesn’t help that we’re sitting close. Maybe a little too close, considering I have a fake boyfriend and all. As if only now realizing he’s still touching me, his fingertips press into me one more timebefore he oh so slowly lifts his hand and presses his palm onto the table. His nails are trimmed short, and there’s a light dusting of hair along the back of his hand, his veins popping and his fingers spread wide. I never thought hands were sexy. And maybe they aren’t. Maybe it’s because they’re connected to Jaxon. My family friend. The reminder of how he introduced me to Crowther shatters my daydream of what it would feel like to have his hands on me, roaming my skin, leaving me hot and tingly and wanting.
Ooookay. Down, girl.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he mutters.
“It’s really nothing,” I say. “I was only thinking about whether or not I’m officially off the clock or…”
“I got Poppy for the rest of the night.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, Squeaks, er, Rore.” He hesitates. “Sorry, I know you don’t want me calling you Squeaks. It’s a hard habit to break.”
Caving, I say, “It’s okay if you call me Squeaks.”
“Nah, you asked me not to?—”
“I was angry and overreacted.”
“Yeah, and that’s usually the only time you speak your mind,” he argues dryly. “When you’ve been pushed over the edge.Rory.” His mouth lifts, softening the blow of his assessment. “Can I ask you something, though?”
“What?”
“How long have you hated the nickname?”
If only he knew how complicated the question is.
Avoiding his gaze, I mumble, “I don’t hate it. I actually really love it, all things considered.”
“Just not when I say it,” he assumes.
I shake my head. “That’s not it, either.”
“Then, what is it?”
“I don’t know. I guess, it made me feel like, aftereverything we’d been through, you were able to just sweep everything under the rug, and I wasn’t able to, you know?”
“Never wanted to sweep everything under the rug,” he murmurs. “I only wanted to make you feel comfortable, and ifnotaddressing the fallout was the best way to do it, I was game.”
My mouth quirks. “And you say you’re not perfect.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t start that again.”
“Just so you know, now that we’ve talked everything out and we’re friends again, I’m okay with the nickname every once in a while.”
“All right,Squeaks,” he emphasizes. “Enjoy your night off. I’ve got Poppy.”
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“I’m sure.”
“Like, totally positive?”
“She’s my kid, and I’m done working for the night, so yes. I’m positive.” His lips quirk up on one side. “Go. Read a book. Call Dodge. Take a bath. If your tub is anything like the one in my room, it looks nice.”
I preen at the options I hadn’t even considered. “A bath, huh?”
