down Jason’s bare chest, drawing a circle in the light mat of hair. The glisten of sweat gave his skin a luminescent tone, still nearly hot to the touch. His chest heaved with each breath like he was fighting the oxygen debt from their sharing. His eyes were closed but not to sleep. Contentment, she hoped.
April reached to the adjacent nightstand and removed a stick of gum from an open pack. She let the wrapper fall next to the lamp base and shoved the stick between her teeth. Her jaw worked up to speed.
She didn’t want to come right out and ask it, but she didn’t want the moment to pass either, just in case her intuition was on the mark. He was too easy to spook. On the other hand, it had been only a week since his last visit.
She traced another circle, and he let out a purring exhalation. She leaned up on her elbow. “Jason, why don’t we ever go to your place?”
He frowned without opening his eyes. “Hmmm?”
“Why is it always here? Are you embarrassed about your apartment?”
One eye opened, accompanied by a feeble shake of his head. “What are you talking about?”
She leaned over, close to him. “Why don’t you have me over?”
The other eye opened, and the furrow in his forehead wrinkled to a chasm. “I thought women were only comfortable on their own turf. You know, avoid the walk of shame thing.”
She poked him in the ribs. “Maybe you just like the walk of fame.”
His flinch pulled him to the edge of the bed. He rolled, facing away, and pushed her hand away from his side. “What’s with the weird questions?”
“I was just wondering if you were embarrassed about your apartment.”
He pulled the covers up to his chin. “No. Now tell me what you really want.”
Her face went hot, so she pushed her head into the pillow and reached for his neck, caressing the hairline. “Nothing. I was just thinking.” She felt his jaw tighten.
“Thinking about what?”
She ran her thumb along his jaw line. “I don’t know. You. Me. Us. What we have.”
She felt him smile. He turned his head and kissed her thumb.
Leaning up, she moved her hand back to his neck and gave a little squeeze. His eyes opened. “Well?”
His head jerked a little. “Well, what?”
“What do we have?”
He rolled on his back, sliding her hand to the front of his neck. “You’re important to me.”
“Your coffeemaker is important to you. I’d like to know if I’m more than an appliance in your life.”
No movement. “Don’t be silly.”
She pulled his chin toward her. “Move in with me. Here.” She almost said it’d be cheaper, but she caught herself.
His expression didn’t change. And still no movement. She couldn’t even feel his breathing, which was so forced only moments ago.
Finally, he blinked. “I don’t think—”
“Shit.” She fell back into her pillow and covered her face with her hands. She peeked between her fingers.
Elbowing his pillow, he balanced his head on his hand. “You wouldn’t like the life of an investigative reporter. And now that I’m working for the Press Democrat and the Chronicle, I get calls at all hours. I have to pick up and run with every one of them.”
“I’m sure that’s it.” Her voice was muffled in her palms.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you’re afraid of commitment.”
No response. She peeked through her fingers again. His stare seemed to penetrate her screen. It was no time to cower. She had played the hand. Now it was time to lay down the cards—see what he had. She lowered her hands. “Are you? Afraid?”
“Yes.” His stare continued, but his focus seemed to change.
The gape of her mouth let a quiet gurgle escape. His response was the last she expected—so distant from her mental calculation of possible outcomes. She was speechless. In fact, to her, it was possibly a male first. The shrine on Mount Manhood had probably just lost one of its pillars.
Was he serious, or was this a clever way to derail the
April reached to the adjacent nightstand and removed a stick of gum from an open pack. She let the wrapper fall next to the lamp base and shoved the stick between her teeth. Her jaw worked up to speed.
She didn’t want to come right out and ask it, but she didn’t want the moment to pass either, just in case her intuition was on the mark. He was too easy to spook. On the other hand, it had been only a week since his last visit.
She traced another circle, and he let out a purring exhalation. She leaned up on her elbow. “Jason, why don’t we ever go to your place?”
He frowned without opening his eyes. “Hmmm?”
“Why is it always here? Are you embarrassed about your apartment?”
One eye opened, accompanied by a feeble shake of his head. “What are you talking about?”
She leaned over, close to him. “Why don’t you have me over?”
The other eye opened, and the furrow in his forehead wrinkled to a chasm. “I thought women were only comfortable on their own turf. You know, avoid the walk of shame thing.”
She poked him in the ribs. “Maybe you just like the walk of fame.”
His flinch pulled him to the edge of the bed. He rolled, facing away, and pushed her hand away from his side. “What’s with the weird questions?”
“I was just wondering if you were embarrassed about your apartment.”
He pulled the covers up to his chin. “No. Now tell me what you really want.”
Her face went hot, so she pushed her head into the pillow and reached for his neck, caressing the hairline. “Nothing. I was just thinking.” She felt his jaw tighten.
“Thinking about what?”
She ran her thumb along his jaw line. “I don’t know. You. Me. Us. What we have.”
She felt him smile. He turned his head and kissed her thumb.
Leaning up, she moved her hand back to his neck and gave a little squeeze. His eyes opened. “Well?”
His head jerked a little. “Well, what?”
“What do we have?”
He rolled on his back, sliding her hand to the front of his neck. “You’re important to me.”
“Your coffeemaker is important to you. I’d like to know if I’m more than an appliance in your life.”
No movement. “Don’t be silly.”
She pulled his chin toward her. “Move in with me. Here.” She almost said it’d be cheaper, but she caught herself.
His expression didn’t change. And still no movement. She couldn’t even feel his breathing, which was so forced only moments ago.
Finally, he blinked. “I don’t think—”
“Shit.” She fell back into her pillow and covered her face with her hands. She peeked between her fingers.
Elbowing his pillow, he balanced his head on his hand. “You wouldn’t like the life of an investigative reporter. And now that I’m working for the Press Democrat and the Chronicle, I get calls at all hours. I have to pick up and run with every one of them.”
“I’m sure that’s it.” Her voice was muffled in her palms.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you’re afraid of commitment.”
No response. She peeked through her fingers again. His stare seemed to penetrate her screen. It was no time to cower. She had played the hand. Now it was time to lay down the cards—see what he had. She lowered her hands. “Are you? Afraid?”
“Yes.” His stare continued, but his focus seemed to change.
The gape of her mouth let a quiet gurgle escape. His response was the last she expected—so distant from her mental calculation of possible outcomes. She was speechless. In fact, to her, it was possibly a male first. The shrine on Mount Manhood had probably just lost one of its pillars.
Was he serious, or was this a clever way to derail the
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