Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Erik catches my eye, and it occurs to me that if I were going to tell anyone what happened with Brax, he might be the person who could best understand my conflict.
“How was everything there?”
“The usual.” A sigh accompanies my response, and I know he understands this, because we’ve had discussions about it many times. Erik grew up in the church, too, but he stopped going several years ago.
“Did anything happen? I can tell something’s bothering you, Ava.”
I meet his eyes briefly and then look down, busying myself with pairing the bowls with the plates. “It wasn’t church.”
“But something did happen.” His statement makes me realize that I’ve now admitted that something is wrong, and that keeping it from him is only going to make him worry. He always looks out for me.
Still focused on the dishes, I say, “I think I messed up with this guy I know.” The words come out in a rush, accompanied by a little burst of relief at sharing my burden. I know Erik won’t judge me.
When he doesn’t respond, I look up, afraid I misread him. Maybe he disapproves, which is the response I’d expect from my friends who still attend church. What I see on Erik’s face instead is unhappiness … no. Worse than that. Hurt.
A memory rushes to mind. My friend Lexy, who met Erik once here at my apartment, instantly assumed we were dating. I suddenly understand why she had that impression.
Why did I never see it before? Am I that oblivious, or has he just been that good at hiding it?
I rush to change the subject, hoping to hide my discomfort while I process this revelation. “How long until the food arrives?”
He ignores my question. “I thought you weren’t dating anyone.”
“I’m not … I mean … I stopped dating guys from the church a few years ago, but recently I met a man, not from the church, and I’ve been talking to him. We’ve been getting to know each other.” I’m babbling. So much for hiding my discomfort.
“So what happened?”
Erik’s tone makes it clear that he’s not going to let this go, and because it feels good to have someone to share this with, even though I’m not sure he really wants to hear it, I decide to confess.
“His name is Brax. He’s really nice.” I straighten a plate and smooth the edges of one of the cloth napkins. “Today … he kissed me.”
“He kissed you,” he echoes, as though he’s processing this information. “Did he pressure you into it?”
My head whips up, partly because I’m in a rush to defend Brax, and also because I’ve never heard Erik sound so stern. “No! Nothing like that. It’s just that I got anxious. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I pushed him away.”
Erik remains quiet, and I see him reading between the lines, filling in the things I’m not saying. For better or worse, I keep talking. “I don’t have a lot of experience, and I just … panicked. I couldn’t handle it. I’m ridiculous.”
“What did he do when you pulled away? Did he force himself on you?”
“No, Erik, I swear. It’s nothing like that. I just feel bad about how I handled it. I need to apologize to him at some point.”
He frowns, but doesn’t say anything else before we’re interrupted by an alert on his phone.
“Food’s here. I’ll be right back.”
I watch him go out the door, certain I’ve made my second major mistake of the day.
ERIK
Ava Martinez has been getting to know someone.
I’ve been taking things slow with her because I believed that was what she needed, but apparently I’ve been too much of a damn gentleman.
Downstairs, I thank the delivery driver and collect the bag of food, barely aware of what I’m doing. Much too restless to stand still in the elevator, I take the stairs two at a time on my way back up.
Should I tell her how I feel, or should I be her friend and support her through her budding relationship?
There are a lot of things I’d like to ask her, but I don’t need to question her to know she likes the guy. I can see that clearly. I could hear it in how she said his name.
And even though a big part of me is glad she broke off the kiss, another part is irritated at her upbringing—at our upbringing—and the fact that something that’s easy and enjoyable for most people is obviously difficult for her.
She’s holding the door open for me when I return, her eyes wary. Did I say something to make her uncomfortable? I had to make sure this guy hadn’t hurt her.
She looks like she regrets telling me, and that stings.
“What do you want to watch?” I aim for a normal tone, as if our previous conversation never occurred, and Ava’s shoulders relax.