He nudged her arm. “People are starting to stare now.”
She moaned again, but couldn’t bring herself to sit up.
Fingers pulled one hand away from her face, and she glanced over at him with her exposed eye.
“Tracking you down was definitely worth it.”
“I’m glad I can entertain you.” He broke down her guards too easily, and she wondered what would happen if she couldn’t resist this time. If she didn’t resist.
She wasn’t going to find out.
Determined not to give him that opening, she stiffened in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. She was safe in her reliable and unbreakable shell until his knuckles caressed her elbow and with that simple gesture, her defenses fell into a puddle of unhelpful ooze like the trails of spilled soda trailing under the seats.
“Shouldn’t you be—?” She stopped herself, debating whether or not she wanted to broach such a serious topic, but she already had his attention. “Your nephew, how is he?”
His forehead twitched, and Lena felt miserable as soon as the sparkle of mischief disappeared from his eyes. “I assume news travels fast around your little school. He’s spending the weekend fishing with my dad.”
When he met her gaze again, it felt like it took the force of a steamroller to move air in and out of her lungs. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really your distraction, aren’t I?”
“A welcome distraction, yes. But that isn’t the only reason I came to find you.”
“No? Because I’m pretty good with my distraction skills.”
“I’m sure. Because if you’re just distracting me, you don’t feel like you really have to open up, right?”
And then he went and turned the tables on light-heartedness.
“Which is harder,” he whispered, “being the fun, slightly shy, and open girl when you claim you’re playing or wrapping yourself up so tight you start to shake?”
Lena tucked her hands around her sides, as if that would keep him from seeing that his observations were true. It was easier when she couldn’t get hurt, and that meant either pulling away or not taking it seriously.
Eric tucked her hair away from her face, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see the brown strands trembling from her effort to keep it together.
“You don’t have to give me an answer, but it’s never easier to be someone you’re not.”
Thankfully, the overhead lights dimmed, giving her the next forty minutes to think of a response, or for them both to forget the conversation ever happened. Lena settled back, pressing the bottom of her feet into the back of the empty seat in front of her, while the performers shuffled onto stage. They were quite the mix of musicians—a mix of amateur community members, college students, and semi-professional performers. The uneasy waves of sound rolled through the auditorium as the instrumentalists began tuning—a perfect mimic of how Lena felt inside. Now if only she could balance all of her emotions and somehow get all of them playing in the same key. Or at least performing the same piece.
As her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness around her, her peripheral gaze settled back on Eric. He had claimed the armrest, but she wasn’t going to be presumptuous to try to get it back.
Incorrigible man.
She kept her hand rested at the side of her leg, not far from where his hand hung limply over the rounded wood. But as if her fingers were tugged by some invisible force, her hand twitched toward Eric’s. Her own motivations were becoming as muddled as his, but there had to be some reason he came to find her.
He shifted, turning his wrist, so his hand was palm up, still relaxed, just waiting. Of course, he didn’t miss the movement of her twitchy had. Things other people either missed entirely or dismissed as meaningless, he never misunderstood. His intense attention was equally disconcerting and exciting.
She hooked her fingers over his index finger and as if she’d set off a trap, her hand was enclosed in his warm and solid grasp. Her heart tattered out al final rapid cadence before her mind and body relaxed into the music.
Lena
By the end of the second movement, the prickling of goosebumps had washed across her skin as if the cool air of the auditorium contrasting with the heated sensation of Eric sitting next to her were dead set on pushing her over the edge. She fought a shiver, but it ultimately won, making her wish she had brought a sweater to escape from the cold of the enormous dark room. The performers exited the stage for intermission and the overhead lights kicked on. Lena quickly pulled her arms over her chest and leaned forward, hoping to get warm and hide her embarrassingly hard nipples.
From now on, always grab a sweater.
“I have a jacket in my car,” Eric said, rubbing her back.
“I’m fine.” But, damn, his warm hand left a soothed trail along her cold-bitten nerves.
“I’ll go grab the jacket.” He tapped the bottom of her chin with his index finger. “No arguments.”
She sat back, letting him pass, and a few minutes later, he returned, draping a thin brown suede jacket over her shoulders. She pulled it around herself, easily snuggling into the fabric that was meant for someone much larger than her.
“Thanks.” The jacket brought a welcome escape from the cold, but if it wasn’t bad enough sitting next to Eric, now she was literally wrapped in his scent.
“No problem.”
Now less caught up in the boil of hormones, she finally took the time to look him over. Tonight, his shirt was a plain blue button up, fancier than the shirt he'd been wearing in the bar, but still relaxed. Maybe he had gone to a bit of effort.
A bit of effort? She scoffed to herself. He tracked you down, that's more than a “bit”.
“What are you thinking, Loner?”
“Still trying to figure you out.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he said with a shrug. His body was relaxed, and he never avoided her gaze—there was nothing about him that indicated the least bit of unease. Lena wanted to take comfort in that, but it seemed too easy.
“How do I know you’re not an asshole in disguise?” When in doubt, be blunt.
Eric chuckled and sat forward, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Is that what you think?”
“I’ve heard the warnings about guys like you.”
“Ah, we’re back to ‘guys like me’, huh?” He twisted toward her and placed his palm on her knee. “Do you want to run away from me?”
“No,” she said, and then she thought about her spontaneous admission. “Well, I mean… running would be a bit extreme.”
From his smirk, it was evident that her clarification merely amused him. “Why? Because any guy who might pursue you would, by default, be trouble?”
Well, yes. Lena shook her head.
“Don’t all of those warnings say listen to your gut? What does your gut say?”
She wanted to tell him that her gut thought he was a con man, but all her damn gut really said was don’t walk away. And that was a scarier revelation. As she tried to concoct an answer that didn’t sound insane or hopeless, the lights dimmed again. The audience applauded as the musicians returned to the stage and, in the moment of silence before the music began, Eric leaned toward her ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll get your answer later.”
Don’t get too comfy, she told herself, that’s the last time the lights are going to save you tonight.
Her body, now warm, began to relax, and she wondered whether it was better when she was cold. At least then, she didn’t want to curl up and go to sleep.
No, she forced her eyes to open wide, you can't curl up against his side. But she barely listened to her own strict command.
She felt like a teenager sitting in a movie theater on her first date, concentrating more on his every flinch than what was actually happening in the performance in front of them. Her eyes trailed over what she could see of his hands and legs from the light reflecting off the stage.
Eric shifted, putting his arm around
the back of her chair. How the hell was she supposed to sit through the next thirty minutes like this?
***
The music swelled, and Lena jerked her head up from Eric’s side. Either time was playing a cruel joke on her, or she really had passed out in the middle of a concert with her head resting on a guy she’d known for exactly a week.
Eric squeezed her shoulder, his chuckle just audible under the sound of the music. She glared at him, but his smile didn’t waver, instead he caught her chin and quickly kissed her lips.
Startled, she jerked back.
“You owe me,” he mouthed.
She shook her head, and leaned in to whisper, “It’s your fault for being comfy.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll just count myself lucky you didn’t drool on me.”
No other retort available, Lena stuck out her tongue, and then buried her face in her hands before she burst out laughing and managed to disrupt the audience more than she already had. Thanks to a shock of adrenaline, she was wide-awake, but she had a feeling this whole incident was going to turn Eric from incorrigible to intolerable.
The music moved into a final crescendo, and a few minutes later the lights rose while seats clunked around them as people charged out, trying to get to the exit first.
Eric touched her chin, directing her gaze to him. “Come have dinner with me. You can resume your attempt to figure me out.”
As much as she wanted that, she feared the real Eric couldn’t live up to the fantasy she’d created over the last seven days. The man whose shoulder she’d just used as a pillow for at least half of the third movement. There’d be no rest until she could figure out how he undid her. “Okay.”
Eric stood and linked Lena's arm around his elbow, taking the lead through the crowd to the lobby, where the cast lined up to meet the audience. Jeremiah stood about a foot over most people in the room, and Lena nudged Eric in his direction.
“You really take the cake when it comes to intimidating protective figures.”
“Remember that.”
“There's no danger of me forgetting, but if you think the threat of a seven-foot-tall bear of a roommate is my only incentive for treating you well, maybe we should cancel dinner.”
Lena stopped in her tracks and a group of people brushed by her, knocking into her as they tried to get to the refreshments.
“I didn't mean to upset you, little Loner, but it's a valid point.”
She moved around to face him, he was only about six inches taller than her, but sometimes it was enough to make her feel like she was looking up at a mountain. He leaned his head toward her, anticipating her next move, while remaining calm enough to let her gather her emotions.
“You're right,” she admitted. “But I... he's always protected me. I...”
He pushed her hair back over her shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers. “I don't expect you to open up to me. You barely know me. But, Sweetie, there are so many things fighting in your head to get out right now, you're about to send yourself into a panic attack. One thing at a time.”
“I've never been good at that. It's always all or nothing.” She stiffened at the words. It was too personal, and he was too much.
“Maybe we should have dinner some other night?”
Lena shook her head. “No, I'd really like to have dinner with you. I don't mean to scare you away.”
“You're not scaring me,” his hands squeezed her shoulders again.
“It’s just,” she paused to take a deep breath, “you never leave me anywhere to hide.”
Eric held out his hand, and Lena slowly placed her fingers against his. He curled her fingers into his and pulled her a step closer, until she couldn’t go any farther without stepping on his toes. “I don’t do well with hiding.”
When he released her, and she stepped back, she suddenly remembered that they were in a crowded lobby. Being close to Eric had a knack for making the rest of the world fade from her senses. She shook it off and linked her arm around his elbow, leading him across the room to make the formal—and dreaded—introduction to her roommate.
Jeremiah moved away from the group to meet her and Eric in a small clearing near the wall. “Do I get a real introduction this time?”
“This is Eric. Eric, my roommate Jeremiah.”
The men shook hands, and although neither looked at her she felt like the center of attention.
“Nice to finally have a name for the guy who manages to get under Lena's skin.”
Geez, Lena thought, wishing they had at least stopped at the refreshment table on the way over, so she'd have a cookie or cup of juice to hide behind. “Very funny, Miah.”
Jeremiah slapped her shoulder. “That's what big brothers are for.” Then, his attention went back to Eric, “Beethoven fan?”
“That's not a phrase I had ever used to describe myself, but it was a nice concert.”
Jeremiah smiled, and it looked friendly enough but having known him for nearly fifteen years, Lena easily identified it as his, “I just spotted a rabbit, and now I’m going to have it for dinner” smile. Please, for once, just once, leave the protective brother attitude at home. She glared up at him, from under her lowered head. But it was useless, and maybe that was her fault—too many years of encouraging his protective behavior.
“Was that because of the music or the company?” Jeremiah asked.
Eric squinted. “I'm afraid I might get in trouble if I answer that honestly. Cade told me you were performing, and mentioned that Lena would probably be here as well.”
“And your plans now?”
“Okay boys.” Lena patted Jeremiah on the chest and pulled Eric back a step, hoping they’d both get the point. “We're going to dinner. I know you have plans with your friends anyway, so it saves you from dropping me off before you head over. I'll see you later, Miah.”
“As in later tonight?” He asked, squinting as if he knew something that she didn't.
“Yes, tonight. Unless you're not planning on coming home.”
“I plan on being home, but as I recall the events of last Friday—”
“Enough.” She couldn’t hear Eric laughing over the sound of all the other patrons in the lobby, but she felt the vibrations where her arm pressed against his chest. “Bye, Miah.”
***
The dimly lit restaurant was busy, but they had been seated in a small booth near the back of the restaurant, where—for better or worse—it was quiet. And after the waitress brought their drinks and took their dinner order, Lena was left to fend for herself as the sole object of Eric’s attention.
“How long have you been teaching?”
“I managed to get a subbing position last year, and they hired me full-time this year.” She fidgeted, playing with the napkin roll, and then the little coaster under her glass.
“What grade?”
“Third.”
Eric chuckled and sat back. “This isn’t an interrogation, you know. I’m trying—”
“I know.” Lena took a deep breath and dropped her hands into her lap. “I just… I keep replaying last Friday in my head. That wasn’t me.”
“No?” Eric tilted his head, trying to catch her eye, but she kept her head lowered and her gaze on the table.
“No. I was just playing along because I wanted….”
“You wanted?” he prompted when he clearly got tired of waiting for the end of the sentence that wouldn’t quite form.
“To get out of my own head,” she whispered.
“And it worked?”
“For a while.” Biting her lip, she continued. “I enjoyed doing things that I wouldn’t normally consider, but it’s not me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Lena shook her head and reached for her water glass, hoping her hand wasn’t shaking too visibly as she lifted it to her lips. “Believe whatever you want.”
“I believe this is your facade.”
Annoyance turned to burning anger as she squeezed her napkin, b
ut she refused to lift her eyes from the table. “You don’t know me.”
“No.” He caught her wrist before she could pull it out of his reach.
Her muscles seized under his hot grasp. “Let me go,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
“Let yourself go.”
She met his gaze expecting anger to swirl around his eyes as well, but his face was relaxed—a stark contrast to the tight grip he had on her wrist.
“What do you want?” As soon as she stopped trying to pull away, he loosened her grip.
He turned his hand over so that it rested palm up on the table. “A nice evening out with you.”
“And after that?”
“I like you, Lena. And, I suspect there’s far more to you than you’re willing to accept.”
She folded her arms across her chest, making sure he wouldn’t have the opportunity to grab her again. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls you pick up at sports bars.”
His eyes widened, but he still didn’t move his hand from where it stretched across the table toward her in an invitation. “Now that you mention it, I do.”
Lena’s jaw dropped. It wasn’t that she expected him to deny it, but an outright admission was even more disturbing.
“You’re the first,” he clarified.
“I don’t buy that.”
Eric shrugged, “Believe it or not, I don’t usually pick up girls at bars.”
“Then where do you usually pick them up?”
Eric’s smile widened, and he rubbed his lips together. “Most of the girls I’ve dated I either met through mutual friends or at BDSM clubs.”
Lena’s breath echoed in her ears, and she wondered if she heard him wrong. The roar drowned out any thought to move or respond.
“I didn’t expect it to freak you out that much.”
Lena had to take a long drink of water before she found the ability to respond. “So… what…?”
That wasn’t exactly what she’d intended on stuttering out.
“You tell me. I’ll answer any questions you have, but you’ll have to be a bit more specific.”
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