Love Interest(51)

His words are gentle, almost a confession, but they make a pit open up in my gut.

I have a crush on someone who thinks of himself as a rootless, untethered person.

It’s like Alex is giving me a warning.

My body starts to lock up, and I realize how close I came to falling for someone who might be incapable of falling back.

“I … bathroom,” I mutter, jerking up from my chair.

“Wait, are you—” But I’m already too far gone to hear the rest.

I barge into the single-person bathroom, clicking the lock closed on the door behind me. My reflection stares back through the mirror above the sink. I’m flushed, my cheeks rosy. My eyes look as wild as the hair spilling over my shoulders.

“You’re going to London,” I tell myself. “In seven months.”

What was I thinking? Alex doesn’t want a relationship, and neither should I.

I press my eyes closed and breathe deeply. I can get this under control. It’s just a crush. He doesn’t know. I can make it go away. Because if I fall for him, I’ll really get stuck this time, almost like I did before, but worse, because it’s Alex, and he’s just so … and if he leaves, I’ll be too heartbroken to go anywhere, and then I’ll never figure out what I’m supposed to—

Someone knocks loudly, rudely on the door.

Giving myself a stern look in the mirror, I say, “Don’t tether yourself to him.” Then I open the door and step back into the dim hallway.

“Casey, are you okay?” Alex grabs me by my shoulders.

“Fine,” I grumble. “Just really had to pee.”

He sighs. “You scared the shit out of me, Case. I thought you were having an allergic reaction.”

A broken, deranged laugh escapes me. “Not today, but I appreciate your worst-case-scenario mindset.”

He shakes his head, smiling softly.

Almost like it’s instinctual, one of his hands travels up my neck. A soft gasp slips out of me at the light pressure of his fingertips.

He looks just as surprised as I am as he stares at my throat. Through hooded lashes, his focus travels to my mouth. One of his thumbs scrapes along my neck.

The way he wants me is written into the bend in his body. It’s in the charged space between us, the rasp of his voice. There is palpable desire looping back and forth, him to me, me to him, and no, we can’t playact like it’s not exactly what it is for one more second. I think, maybe, this was a foregone conclusion the minute I crawled into bed with him. And I think I knew it then, and Alex knew it, too.

And bought detergent accordingly.

“Remember when you called me pretty?”

“Beautiful.” He gulps. Takes a step forward, pushing me lightly with his hands until my body presses against the wall. “I remember. And what I meant to say is that when I first saw you, I thought you were so fucking beautiful that I would have razed Manhattan to see you smile.”

Light-headed, half-delirious, I blurt out, “I’ve never been out of the country.”

Wow, I am really all over the board right now. Got to find the plot.

To Alex’s credit, all he says is, “No?”

I shake my head, hair spilling into my face. His hand lifts from my other shoulder to tuck it behind my ear. “It just never happened for me,” I whisper. “My dad is terrified of planes, so it was out of the question when I was a kid. And I never studied abroad because I was just … scared of the idea of it back then, I guess.” Alex is watching me with rapt attention, like these stumbled-over half sentences coming out of my mouth are the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. “Anyway, I’m desperate to go explore.”

Another caress of his thumb on my jawline. Alex clears his throat. “I bet you’d love it.”

“I think so, too. Which is why I’m getting transferred to Little Cooper’s London office next summer.”

There is a moment of hesitation, just one moment, and then Alex says, “That’s great.”

Yes. It’s great. Get this under control, Casey. Make it mean less. Make it meaningless. That’s your solution. Set the terms.

“But also … I’ve been thinking about how you and me … We aren’t in the same department.”

His lips part softly. “Definitely not.”

“So…”

“So,” he repeats. “If we wanted to…”

“Kiss again, for example. Or, you know, do other things that, um, consensually follow kissing, on occasion.”

Alex is still staring at my mouth. “There wouldn’t be any problem with that. Professionally.”

Except for the fact that we do work together pretty damn closely, and also, we’ve got this whole YouTube gig—

“And it wouldn’t have to be awkward,” I say. “Or even a big deal at all, because—”

“Because of London,” Alex whispers. “Works for me. Can I kiss you now?”

“Okay.”

His lips reach mine, and when they do, I realize there was no. way. we could have avoided this for much longer.

He does it again, that thing, the gentle tease where his mouth just brushes mine and hovers there, savoring, but somehow it’s the most intense thing I’ve ever felt, slow and intentional, a swallow of wine before the full glass is poured. But this time, it lasts only the span of an exhale, and then his mouth slants fully against mine in crushing, burning heat. Our noses kiss, too, and Alex’s lips are impossibly soft like clouds, and they’re wet, like rain.