Page 6 of Forever the Bully
“My turn!” I need to change the subject before his thundercloud expression prompts me to do something foolish. Like kiss away the frown or something equally reckless.
“Did you get everything you wanted out of our bargain?” The question pops out, unbidden. It’s certainly not what I intendedto ask him. My heart trips and trembles at the risk I’ve exposed myself to.
No matter his answer, I know it’ll hurt. Either he’s proved himself likeable and the person whose attention he wanted is ready to slide into my place, or the plan’s failed. In which case, he must be disappointed to have wasted these weeks fake dating me.
“I think dinner’s ready,” Jeremiah says. His focus is on removing a baking sheet, loaded with vegetables, from the oven. The stewpot on the stove releases fragrant steam when he lifts the lid and sets it to the side. A second sheet pan with golden rolls spaced evenly across it comes out of the oven next, and those he dumps into a napkin-lined basket. “I made braised beef and vegetables. Nothing fancy, but it’s similar to the beef bourguignon we had atPieridea.”
Our one fancy dinner date. Neither of us comments on his change of subject and failure to answer my question. I allow him to distract me from our Twenty Questions game as he plates our food and we sit at the cozy table in the breakfast nook beside the kitchen. The beef is every bit as tender as the main course we had at thePierideawhen we attended Beverly Reckman’s retirement dinner last week.
I’m not surprised he remembers how much I’d enjoyed my meal there. He’s an observant person. It doesn’t mean anything, or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
“How did I not know you’re this good of a cook? I feel like this is something you should have led with. Seriously, this is delicious!” I gush.
“It’s just wine and time, that’s all.” He pushes food around on his plate, dragging out the meal and delaying any serious discussion.
I’m uncertain what mundane topics we discuss as dinner turns into dessert. The box-made brownies aren’t fancy, but headded pecan pieces and drizzled caramel over the top before serving them under giant scoops of vanilla ice cream.
My brain unhelpfully reminds me I’d once mentioned pecans being my favorite. Another quiet way Jeremiah shows me how thoughtful and considerate he is. It makes me wonder what it would be like to be the object of his real interest and not a bartered fake girlfriend.
Before I have time to process the end of our evening, I’m at the front door and searching for an excuse to stall leaving. Jeremiah’s got a tense set to his jaw that makes me wonder if he’s anxious to see me go or wishing I’d stay.
Chapter Eight
Jeremiah
Hazel’s hand on the doorknob brings everything into focus. This is it. The end of us. Earlier than agreed upon, but there’s no help for it.
For three weeks, I’ve kicked my own ass for coming up with this absurd bargain. Now, we’ve reached the point where excuses and loopholes to spend time with her feel as flimsy and transparent as they actually are. Worse, I’ve been unable to progress anything between us while the agreement is in effect. Not for lack of desire, but because it feels gross to make a move on Hazel when she’s technically working off a debt with our bargain.
“Wait. Don’t leave yet.” The words tumble from my mouth without my brain thinking them through first.
“What’s wrong?” Hazel turns from the door, and I notice the way her eyes have gone red and watery. My heart stumbles, and nerves steal my breath. I shouldn’t be this tangled up. Ifanything, her visible upset should be confirmation my feelings aren’t one sided.
Her tears break something in me, though. Something that demands immediate war. I worry it’s me causing her sadness, and it’s nearly more than I can bear. My feet bring me to her with no conscious direction, helpless to do anything less than attempt to comfort her.
“Don’t cry. Whatever I did, I’ll undo it.” My promise brings more tears, and I want to claw off my skin in apology.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jeremiah. I’m just…” She trails off, and the silence between us is unacceptable.
“Talk to me. We’re friends now, right? At least, that much.” Wrapping her in my arms is as natural as breathing.
I move us back into the house until my knees bump against the sofa and I direct us to sit on the worn leather. I keep my arm around her, holding her against me, though it means we’re not face to face.
Hazel curls her body into mine, her face tucking under my chin and until she’s twisted enough to nearly be on my lap. Carefully, I lean forward and to the side so I can arch my lap away from her hip. The last thing I need is my unruly dick making it obvious how little care it gives for the emotionally fraught tension between us. It’s just so fucking happy to be this close to her.
“What are we doing?” she asks.
“What I should have done weeks ago. Months, really,” I answer.
Hazel pulls away from me, just far enough to tilt her face and look into my eyes. Nerves jangle my insides so badly I nearly backtrack everything by pushing her away. Instead, I lock away my shyness and allow her to see the vulnerability and desire battling for control within me.
She smiles at me, her eyes crinkling in the corners and dancing with excitement. At the confirmation I’m not alone in feeling this chemistry, desire overtakes my nerves. The slightest urging has her throwing a leg over my thighs and straddling my lap.
“Why didn’t you?” There’s nothing snide about her question, but defensiveness creeps like acid reflux up my throat.
Hazel’s too new to Starlight Bay to know my history. My shame. For the most part, my adolescent bullying has faded into the shadows of people’s memories. Especially when I came home from college with a new attitude and a commitment to preventing bullies from treating classmates the way I had when I was young. It wasn’t until a few years ago, when my colleague Blaise fell in love with a man who had been my biggest rival and most mistreated victim in high school, that anyone remembered what a jerk I’d been back then. Simon moved back to Starlight Bay to rescue his family’s pizza shop, and the two of them met and fell in love.
Blaise had been shocked to learn of my embarrassing past. I had been convinced I’d never live it down, since it seemed as though the torment I’d put him through in the past was enough to send Simon right back out of town. He’d proved to be a better man than I’d been in high school and stuck around. Simon had allowed me to apologize and make things as right as they could be. Now, I count him and Blaise as friends, though I don’t deserve the second chance.
