Page 88 of Lighting the Lamp
“Unopened. Slightly melted, but still perfect.” She waves the candy like a white flag.
“Seventy-five, and—” Darius’s eyes narrow, locking with mine. “You throw in those cinnamon protein bites you hoard like dragon treasure.”
“This kid is a fucking extortionist,” I mumble, nodding toward the kitchen. “They’re in the top left container in the fridge.”
“You must really want me gone.” Darius brightens. “It was nice doing business with my favorite Hendrix. Have fun doing… whatever this is.”
He disappears, whistling, and heads into the kitchen in search of his treasure, but Alise doesn’t move. She just stands there, spine stiff, fingers curled into the hem of her shirt like she’s trying to wrangle her heartbeat back into her chest. Her cheeks are still flushed, but she’s already retreating.
“I should go,” she says, too fast. “That was… we got caught up.”
“Yeah, caught up in something real.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it mean something.”
“But itdid.”
She shakes her head like she can’t afford to believe me. “It was just the moment. Just adrenaline. It doesn’t have to be anything.”
I close the space between us slowly, leaving just enough for her to want to close it.
“You keep telling yourself that, but we both know you felt it.”
She swallows hard, eyes searching mine like she’s trying to find an escape route and can’t. “I can’t do this, Beau. Not if it’s gonna end with me being the only one who?—”
She stops herself, breath catching. I gently take her hand in mine, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’re not.”
She blinks, and her whole expression wobbles like she’s seconds away from falling apart, but she pulls her hand back. “I need more time.”
“Okay. I’ll wait.” I nod, even though everything in me screams to close the gap again.
She reaches for the doorknob, but before she opens it, she glances back. “You always make things harder to walk away from.”
Then she’s gone, and all I can do is stand there, heart racing, wondering how long she’ll keep trying to run from something that already belongs to both of us.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alise
Idon’t run to Ramona and Cooper’s place; I power walk like a woman on a mission. I completely bypass the elevator like it insulted my mother and take the stairs two at a time. Apparently, I’ve entered my “flight mode” era, and there’s no pause button. I’m not the girl who just casually wraps her legs around a man in the middle of his living room while our pseudo-nephew walks in, but here we are. Or, more accurately, there I was, with Beau Hendrix’s hands on my waist, my heart in my throat, and my soul halfway laid bare. And now, I’m spiraling.
I can still feel his hands, gentle but certain, caressing my skin. His touch doesn’t just linger on my skin, but I can feel it deep in my bones. Still taste the kiss we shouldn’t have shared, hear him say he felt the same thing I did and didn’t regret it, and he meant every damn syllable. And God help me, I want to believe him. I really, really do because Beau has been showing up, just like he promised when I was unraveling, when I needed someone to see me and stay anyway.
He’s brought me my favorite sandwich from the Pit Stop and sweet snacks for lunch, fixed the busted heater in the skate room, and has occasionally left my favorite drink on my desk when he’s known I’ve had a rough day. He’s even kept hisdistance, which somehow feels more intimate than touching, like he actually listened when I said I needed space.
Well, except for a few minutes ago. But that was on me. I let him get close. Let myself lean into his warmth, the safety I keep pretending I don’t crave. He was standing too close, all soft eyes and warm hands and that damn little smile he gets when he’s trying to pretend everything’s fine.
Nope. We arenotgoing there again. He is not mine. That moment meant nothing. Except it did, and that’s the part that terrifies me the most because Iwantto go there again. I want to believe that the way he looks at me means something. I want to believe the way he touches me—like I’m something precious and breakable but worth holding anyway—is real. I want to believe that someone like Beau Hendrix could see all of me and choose to stay.
But something has been off.
I don’t know exactly when it started. It’s just been a hunch or feeling every time I look at him. Something has shifted, and not just whatever this thing is between us, but something else. There’s a distance in his eyes even when he’s right in front of me. It’s like he’s smiling with only part of his mouth and none of his heart, locking a part of himself away and hoping I won’t notice the missing piece.
But I’ve noticed.
