Page 10 of Soft Tissue Damage
He gives me a pleading smile. “Please, I never see you. I’ll pay.”
“I’ll get the tickets next time,” I promise.
“You don’t need to, I’ve got plenty of money,” he says with a careless wave of his hand.
Must be nice, I think, and then I feel guilty that I’m not more grateful for Leon’s generosity.
We arrive at my apartment building, and after he switches off the engine, he turns to me with a smile, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me. His kisses are comforting like chocolate. I’m lucky to have such a smart and cute boyfriend. Leon’s breathing grows heavy, and I wait for some of the desire he’s feeling to well up inside me. Nothing happens.
“Can I come up?” he asks.
“I have to be up early,” I say apologetically, and I give him another kiss that I hope eases his disappointment. “Night, Leon.”
“Yeah. Good night.”
My roommate is already asleep in her room when I let myself into our tiny apartment. I creep about, making myself a cup of herbal tea and taking it into the shower with me. I already ate at the diner, so I brush my teeth,change into an oversized T-shirt that I use as a nightshirt, and get into bed.
When I close my eyes, my mind travels back over the week. I shudder when I think about my aunts and Father Connell. My mind moves on to Mr. Grant. He doesn’t much resemble his son. Leon has dark hair and boyish features, while his father is bigger and sturdier with sandy hair and hazel eyes. I can still feel Mr. Grant’s strong grip on my laces as he ties them tightly. It’s strange how vivid my memory is of him. Sleepily, I imagine Mr. Grant caressing my ankle and then sliding his hand up the inside of my calf and thigh. Big hands. Big, warm, strong hands that make my eyelashes flutter.
I wriggle in bed, squeezing my thighs together in frustration, and then turn over. Thoughts I have no business having about my boyfriend’s father parade through my mind. Shouldn’t I be thinking about Leon, who I know actually wants to touch my thighs? I make myself picture Leon touching me, even if I have to confess it later, but the hot feeling drains away.
My throat burns, and I whimper into the pillow. Leon is so patient with me, but after five weeks of dating, I worry that his patience is running thin. We haven’t slept together, and he’s only seen me topless once, though it hadn’t been my intention. I didn’t realize the top I was wearing was so easy for someone to pull off. I haven’t worn it again.
Whenever I think about having sex with Leon, my aunts’ disapproving voices and Father Connell’s fire and brimstone sermons ricochet through my mind. But there’salso a tiny voice that sounds like me, wondering if more intimacy with Leon is what I really want.
I bet you make people feel safe all over Blackport.
I groan and feel myself turning red all over again. But I meant every word. No wonder Leon is so easygoing and confident. With Mr. Grant protecting me, I’d feel like I was in the safest hands in the world.
3
Cullan
Archer’s Diner is crowded when I enter after nightfall, but the hostess finds me a booth in Elena’s section when I ask for it. I sit with my back to a wall, pull out my laptop, and take a slow, casual glance around for any security cameras that might be able to see my screen. It’s safe, and with no one able to peer over my shoulder, I open it.
While it boots up, I glance over the screen at Elena. There’s a couple with a fussy baby a few tables down. Elena has picked the baby up and is making her smile with the pink feathery pom-pom that’s stuck to the end of her pen. There’s a beautiful smile on Elena’s face as well.
I lean back in my seat and watch her cuddle the baby.How bright and animated her eyes look. My daughter Rosie would love her.
A few minutes later, Elena spots me and comes over with a bright smile. “Mr. Grant. It’s lovely to see you again.”
“You’re good with babies,” I say, nodding at the infant in the high chair.
“I love babies,” she tells me with a smile as she puts a menu in front of me. She glances at my laptop. “Working hard, Mr. Grant?”
I’m meant to be working out an infiltration plan for my new client, but I haven’t got a thing done. I’ve been staring at her. The pink feathery pom-pom pen is now stuck through her ponytail. “Not too hard. Is Leon picking you up after your shift?”
She shakes her head. “Not tonight. He’s busy.”
“Then I’ll take you home.”
Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”
“I’ll take you home. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
“Oh. Okay.” As she moves away, she’s biting her lip and her eyes are troubled. When she comes back to take my order for a club sandwich, she won’t meet my eyes, and her smile is forced, like she’s worried. Or afraid.
Is Elena afraid of me? I glance down at myself, and then at my laptop screen, wondering if I’ve given myself away somehow. I’m dressed blandly in a sweater. There’s nothing incriminating on my laptop screen.
