Page 47 of Silver Linings
“There is no sexual tension,” I cough out.Yeah, and I’m the pope.
“You could have cut it with a knife the other day at the store!” Holly shouts from her office.
“You were basically eye fucking him at karaoke,” Kena adds.
I scoff, but it comes out high pitched and reeking of denial.
“First off, you are not even in the room, so you don’t get an opinion,” I lob back at Holly. “And second, of course I was. The man looks like he stepped out of a GQ cover shoot.”
“He’s a nice guy, so what’s the problem?” Always count on Sera to get straight to the point as she tears into her piece of focaccia.
“There isn’t a problem. It’s just not like that between us.” It is, but if I had to end it, then there was no point in bringing them into it.
By the looks on their faces, no one believes me. I’ve never been one to back down from a guy I’m interested in, and they know that, but I don’t exactly want to explain.We kissed last night, and it was so Earth-shattering that it scared me shitless, and now I must disassociate, or I’ll end up like my mother.
I don’t think I could even explain it if I wanted to. So, I don’t.
“It’s okay if you like him, sweetie,” Kena remarkstoogently, as if he’s trying not to spook a skittish animal.
“I know.” I fight for nonchalance and take another bite while I think of something convincing to say. “He’s obviously attractive, but I don’t want to risk making things complicated when I have so much riding on the store.” That’s not even a lie, just another convenient reason why I have to keep things platonic from now on.
My explanation seems to appease them, because they all nod and settle into a conversation about a new gallery that just opened where the artist uses various body parts to paint his pieces, and that’s honestly enough to make me want to go.
“Even his di—” I start before Kena cuts me off.
“Every. Usable. Appendage.” He over-enunciates every word.
“Let’s go this weekend.”
We all agree on a day and time, and I realize my anxiety has settled from the stress of the day just by being in the presence of my people. I don’t need to shake things up further by risking an unknown variable like Hendrix. No, it’s best to keep things platonic. But my mind keeps going back to that kiss, his forest rich eyes boring down into mine with intensity and a need to explore—me, us, whatever this connection is.
This might be harder than I thought.
thirteen
. . .
My feet poundagainst the pavement as I sprint a path around Washington Square Park, trying to clear my mind for the day ahead. The sun is hiding behind the cover of clouds, and there’s a soft, cool breeze floating in the air, hinting at the first signs of early autumn.
It’s a task that’s proving to be more difficult by the minute with Silver invading my every thought. A cab almost took me out earlier while at a crosswalk. I was distracted thinking about what I could ask during our next round of twenty questions, and didn’t notice the yellow blob in my peripherals barreling toward me, blaring its horn. I jumped back in barely enough time to not get mowed down, but Ididget a colorful string of expletives thrown out the window in my direction.
It’s early on Sunday morning, and the city that never sleeps is as quiet as it will ever be—which is to say, still really fucking noisy, something it now has in common with my head.
I got up around five, wide awake with frenetic energy and the strong desire to pick up my long neglected sketchpad and pencil for the first time in years. I drew in bed without thinking, my mind replaying the kiss with Silver on a never-ending highlightreel while I mindlessly doodled. My brain helpfully supplied reminders of each gasp and moan she made to a near-torturous melody, building into a crescendo until I set down my drawing supplies and sprang out of bed to go on this run, afraid if I didn’t, I might take matters into my own hands—literally.
But it wasn’t just the lingering taste of her on my tongue that had me fidgeting in bed until the sheets tangled around my legs like a boa constrictor. It was just her…and the sense of awareness my body has when I’m thinking about her or near her. I thought I would go in there, help her paint, and then be done with it. But then, she started that damn twenty questions game, and fuck, it was so charming and…disarming. It made me want to tell her things, unearth hidden truths and desires.
It’s too soon for that.
We agreed when we parted that we would keep renovations to weeknights so we could both rest on our weekends. That’s probably for the best in hindsight—to give me a chance to get my ever-loving shit together. I told myself repeatedly to keep my distance, but I kept getting sucked into her gravitational pull, unable to wrench myself free.
Do I even want to be free?
No, I don’t, but I should. This consuming need to be near Silver has been joined with a feeling of guilt that’s persistently knocking at the back of my mind, demanding to be let in. How could I enjoy myself, feel light and free and alive, when Maddox is dead? My brain has been doing mental gymnastics since Friday night, trying to reconcile the two things, compartmentalize them in separate files so I don’t feel like I’m betraying my younger brother.
Because denying feelings for Silver—trying to put her out of my mind—is getting harder by the day. I’m not sure the connection I feel to her is something I will be able to let go of easily.
She makes me feel…everything.
