And my hand laced with JP’s trembles in his grasp.
What . . . what’s he doing?
Why is he saying these things?
What’s his end goal?
The romantic in me would love to believe he means what he just said. That he thinks those things about me. But sadly, I suspect there’s only one end goal when it comes to JP and a girl, late at night, standing outside his house. I’m confident I know what he expects. And I’m not blind. I can understand the appeal. He’s an extremely handsome man, after all. He can pull you in with one look, one flash of his rakish eyes. You can feel his gaze.
Just like I can feel it now.
The flash of his eyes to my lips.
The dip of his tongue over his lips, wetting them. Preparing.
The step he makes to close the space between us one more time.
It’s all there, the signs.
And I might be sad. I might feel distraught, but I know one thing—a night in JP Cane’s bed is not going to help matters.
So, I release his hand and take a step back. “JP, I’m not going to sleep with you.” The words fly out of my mouth in a flurry, making it clear where I stand.
His compliments, his kindness, aren’t going to factor into my decision.
And when I look him in the eyes, to hold strong, I’m not met with his usual smirk or flirtatious expression, but rather a scowl. His dark, thick brows are pulled together, the softness has morphed into a stern, almost insulted gaze.
His lips twist to the side in a mock snarl and when I think he’s going to say something, his hand drives through his thick hair as he turns away.
“Yeah,” he says on a huff, his back turned toward me. “Let’s get you back to your car.”
One hand still in his hair, he walks toward the gate of his driveway, not even bothering to wait for me. I hurry behind him as he opens an undetected single-person gate hidden in the bushes. He holds it open for me, and right before I walk through it, I stop and stare up at him.
“You can’t be mad at me for not wanting to sleep with you, JP.”
He stares up at the sky as he lets out a heavy breath. “Just walk through the gate, Kelsey.”
Irritation is steaming off him and even though I have this need to push him, to make him understand my reasoning, I can see that’s only going to make him madder. Keeping my composure, I walk past him, through the gate, and then together, we walk across the street to Huxley and Lottie’s house, where once again, JP opens a gate for me and takes me right to my car.
“Do you have your keys?” he asks.
I hold up my small clutch. “In here.”
“Good.” He steps back and sticks both hands in his pockets.
He doesn’t say another word, and I can’t help but feel that I did something wrong. He was gallant and kind, which I truly appreciate, but it should be okay for me to use words—not my body—to thank him.
“JP—”
“Have a good night, Kelsey.” He takes another step back and I realize he’s not going to leave until I get in my car and start it, another gentlemanly act that I didn’t expect from him. This entire night has been incredibly unexpected and I’m not sure I’m capable of sifting through it all in my head, not when I’m exhausted and mentally spent.
Thankfully, I really only had that one glass of wine, so I’m good to drive. I unlock my car and get in. I consider saying something to JP. Thank you, maybe, but when I turn to roll down my window, he’s already walking across the street to his house.
Well, I guess that’s that.
With a heavy heart, I start my car and drive back to my small studio apartment.
Meant to Be Podcast
Rath and Charlee
Kelsey: Welcome, listener, to the Meant to Be Podcast, where we talk to madly-in-love couples about the way they met. Rath and Charlee, thank you so much for joining me today. Please, tell us how you met.
Charlee: First, can I say how much I love this podcast? I can’t believe you are actually having us on the show. Gah, I listen to it every week. Rath thinks I’m a lunatic, of course, when I gush over every couple, but he’s also one of the biggest grumps you could imagine. I had to bribe him with sexual favors to get him here.
Rath: Charlee, filter.
Charlee: He’s really worried that I’m going to say something that embarrasses him, which, sure, is probably the truth because I don’t know when to stop talking. Ask me a question and I just let loose. But, yeah, I told him I would do some favors under his desk while at work—
Rath: For the love of Christ, Charlee.