Page 32 of From the Ashes
“I know I can be intense for most people.”
“I…I like that you are…intense,” I say, blushing and pulling the cover up my chin as if someone can see me. “I like that you say what you think and also, well, the way you look at me.” Why would I hide it? If there’s one thing I know from my failing marriage, it's that communication is key. How do I know? Because we didn’t have any.
“Good then. Yeah, good.” he rasps, and the sound of his sultry voice sends shivers down my spine.
“Yep,” I mutter in a breathy voice, my mouth suddenly dry. “What are you doing?”
“Now?”
“Well, I’m in bed with a romance book, what about you?” He inhales deeply, and I secretly hope he pictures me here and that this is the reason why he’s a bit flustered.A girl can dream.
“I’m in bed too. I just finished a movie.”
“What was it about?”
“End of the world superhero stuff, dialogues were bad, but the overall thing was watchable,” he recites, his tone cold and even.
“Why do you like movies that much?” He doesn’t answer me right away, and I wonder if my question struck a nerve.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.” Is he like a movie addict? Does he need his fix every day to escape from reality? I like to read to do that, but watching movies doesn’t do the same for me. I guess I prefer when it’s my imagination creating the images in my head.
“Because it helps me study faces.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“No, I mean, okay, I wasn’t expecting… I guess it’s smart to do that.”
He sighs. Does he regret telling me?
“Actors display different emotions, and when they're not too bad, I can study their features and make mental notes about them. Helps me in my everyday life. I shouldn’t have told you. I suck at social interaction and I’m just proving it to you right now.” His tone is heavy and urgent, as if he was eager to end our call, and the idea of it suddenly makes me want to cry. I know he’s different, but I like it; that’s something I actually really, really like about him.
“Carter?”
“Yeah?”
“I…I like that you’re, um…different.” I hope he won’t take it wrong and understand my meaning. “I’ve spent years with the so-called perfect man. He was holding on to all the social standards, and still, he’s the worst person I've ever met in my life. Just because you fit in the eyes of others doesn’t mean you’re worthy,” I pause, blinking twice and shoving away the old memories, “you’re direct and you don’t try to seduce me with tricks and…”Did I say seduce? God, what am I? Eighty?“I didn’t mean seduce, anyway, just know that as long as you treat me like you’ve been doing, I’m not going anywhere.”
Oh. My. God. You don’t even know if you’re still able to kiss a man without crying like a baby. What makes you think you can make these kinds of promises?
“Are you still there?” I ask because apart from his breathing, I haven’t heard him speak. Is it weird that I told him I liked him? I haven’t been in the dating pool in ages. Perhaps I’m too direct, and I should let him simmer a bit more.
“Idowant to seduce you.” His tone is strong and determined, the heat of it coming right out of the device. “I just want to make sure I’m doing it right.” I exhale, licking my lip and imagining how it would feel if he was the one doing it.
“Well…you are,” I confess in a whisper. He sighs, and I hear sheets moving as if he’s tossing and turning.Am I unsettling him? Can I do that?
“When you say that, it makes me want to drive to you right now and stare at you while you sleep,” he grunts and the heaviness of his voice makes the hair on my neck rise.
Oh.
Oo-kay.
I did say I liked him being intense.
He delivered.
