I slide off the bed in a hurry. “It’s probably my mother,” I say to him, straightening out my clothes. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Jason rolls onto his back and watches me leave the room. I rush to the door, knowing exactly who I hope it is before I even open it. But even still, I gasp when I look through the peephole.
Graham is standing at my door, looking down at his feet.
I press my forehead to my door and close my eyes.
What is he doing here?
I attempt to straighten out my shirt and my hair before opening the door. When I’m finally face-to-face with him, I grow irritated at the way I feel in his presence. Graham doesn’t even touch me and I feel it everywhere. Jason touches me everywhere and I feel it nowhere.
“What . . .” The word that just left my mouth is somehow full of more breath than voice. I clear my throat and try again. “What are you doing here?”
Graham smiles a little, lifting a hand to the doorframe. The smirk on his face and the fact that he’s chewing gum are two of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen at one time. “I thought this was the plan.”
I am so confused. “The plan?”
He laughs halfheartedly. But then he tilts his head. He points behind me, into my apartment. “I thought . . .” He points behind him, over his shoulder. “At the restaurant. There was this look . . . right before you left. I thought you were asking me to come over.”
His voice is louder than I need it to be right now. I check over my shoulder to make sure Jason hasn’t come out of the bedroom. Then I try to shield Graham from my apartment a little better by slipping more on the other side of the door. “What look?”
Graham’s eyes narrow a bit. “You didn’t give me a look?”
I shake my head. “I did not give you a look. I wouldn’t even know what look to give you that would say, ‘Hey, ditch your date and come over to my place tonight.’？”
Graham’s lips form a tight line and he looks down at the floor with a hint of embarrassment. He raises his eyes, but his head is still dipped when he says, “Is he here? Your date?”
Now I’m the one who’s embarrassed. I nod. Graham releases a sigh as he leans against the doorjamb. “Wow. I read that one wrong.”
When he looks at me again, I notice the left side of his face is red. I step closer to him and reach up to his cheek. “What happened?”
He grins and pulls my hand from his cheek. He doesn’t let go of it. I don’t want him to.
“I got slapped. It’s fine. I deserved it.”
That’s when I see it. The outline of a handprint. “Your date?”
He lifts a shoulder. “After what happened with Sasha, I vowed to be completely honest in every aspect of my relationships from then on. Jess . . . my date tonight . . . didn’t see that as a good quality.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I broke it off with her. I told her I was into another girl. And that I was going to her apartment to see her.”
“Because this other girl supposedly gave you a look?”
He smiles. “I thought she did, anyway.” He brushes his thumb across the top of my hand and then he releases it. “Well, Quinn. Maybe another time.”
Graham takes a step back and it feels like he pulls all my emotions with him as he turns to walk away.
“Graham,” I say, stepping out into the hallway. He turns around, and I don’t know if I’m going to regret what I’m about to say, but I’ll regret it even more if I don’t. “Come back in fifteen minutes. I’ll get rid of him.”
Graham shoots me the perfect thank-you smile, but before he walks away, his eyes move past me. To someone behind me. I turn around and see Jason standing in the doorway. He looks pissed. Rightfully so.
He swings open the door and walks out into the hallway. He walks past Graham, shoving him with his shoulder. Graham just stands silent, staring at the floor.
I feel terrible. But if it hadn’t happened this way, I would have shot him down on his way out of my apartment later. Rejection sucks, no matter how it’s presented.
The door to the stairwell slams shut and neither of us speak as we listen to Jason’s footsteps fade down the stairs. When all is quiet, Graham finally lifts his head and makes eye contact with me. “You still need that fifteen minutes?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
Graham walks toward me as I step back into my apartment. I hold the door open for him, certain that he won’t be leaving here as quickly as he did last time. Once he’s inside, I close the door and then turn around. Graham is smiling, looking at the wall beside my head. I follow his line of sight to the Post-it he left six months ago.