I should really just smack myself in the face now and get it over with because if I thought I was an idiot five minutes ago I was sadly mistaken. I could not have come up with a cornier question. My usual ‘confidence’ has gone into hiding. It’s the first time a girl has me at a loss for words for no reason at all.
She shrugs. “It’s different but I like it. The people are really nice. It’s the closest thing to home I’ve felt in a long time.”
“What do you mean?” I don’t want to pry but the question is out before I can think twice about it. Something is pushing me to dig deeper and whether she opens up or not is up to her but I want to try.
“Sometimes home has more to do with the people around you than the place you live. A home isn’t always a happy place but the people with you are what make it worth it.”
Her words hit me in the middle of my chest and ricochet off the walls of my rib cage. I understand what she means better than I wish I did.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she whispers, regretting her words. I wonder if she realizes that her emotions are written all over her beautiful face. This girl, this gorgeous creation sitting next to me, has been hurt before, maybe even broken. She may not want others to see it but I do.
I realize then that what’s pulling me to her is more than just an attraction. It’s an inherent bond created by circumstances neither of us had or have control over.
You hear about people crossing paths in their lives and you hear about peoples paths running alongside each other in perfect symmetry. But what you don’t often hear about is the union of two roads that eventually become one. Looking at Huntley now, I understand what that means. The feeling that her path with inevitably come together with mine is unnerving but nonetheless there.
We’re quiet for the rest of the drive, both lost in our own thoughts. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Then maybe I would feel like less of an ass for having these crazy, ridiculous feelings wreaking havoc with my head. Both of them.
We pull up outside the house and I turn my truck off. I’m trying to decide whether or not to invite her in and dammit it’s a tough decision. If I invited her in would she get the wrong idea? If I didn’t invite her in would she also then get the wrong idea?
God. I sound like a woman, overanalyzing every little detail until it’s worn paper-thin.
“You’re not what I was expecting,” Huntley says shifting in her seat to face me. The comment is blunt and completely unexpected, pulling me straight out of my dippy thoughts.
“Oh yeah?” I quip sarcastically, “Why’s that?”
I’m dying to know what people have told her about me. Probably about what a play boy I am or how I party too much or maybe how I have a new girl on my arm every night. Stupid rumors piss me off so much I’ve never really wasted any time negating them. But I wish I had, just so that Huntley won’t have any reason to believe them.
“I’ve heard things,” she doesn’t look me in the eye and I hate it. Clearly she’s already made up her mind about me. I hate that too.
“I’m sure you have,” I growl, shaking my head. My tone is less kind than I intend but it makes me furious to know that someone has taken the time to deprecate Huntley’s opinion of me before she’s had the chance to even know me. I guess this is all part of keeping secrets and why I refuse to get attached to anyone.
I jump out my truck and slam my door, pulling my fingers through my hair while I take in the warm air. I hear the passenger door close but I don’t look back at Huntley, afraid I’ll snap at her for shit other people have said. I squelch the urge to yell and release my frustration the way a toddler would.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft and tiny. I snap my head back and frown. Before she can look up, I walk the few steps between us and cage her in against my truck. She looks scared, like I might hurt her, but when her eyes find mine I see nothing but warmth and benevolence in their boundless sapphire-colored depths.
In that moment I feel naked, like she can see my soul stripped bare of its impurities and imperfections. I don’t like that it makes me feel vulnerable and completely exposed to the derision I know will follow when she sees the ugly secrets that keep me awake night after night.
I take the chance to inhale her scent. Leaning in a little closer, I drag my nose along her shoulder, getting as close as possible without touching her. The edges of my mouth turn up, forming a smile, when I find that I’m right. She does smell like strawberries. And vanilla. It’s a heady combination that I’m going to become addicted to very quickly.
“I won’t hurt you,” I whisper, “But I think it’s best if we stay away from each other.”
Hurt flickers across her features and it’s like a punch to the stomach. “What made you think I was interested Grayson?” she bites back. She has a fire inside her. I see it. I feel it. And it’s sexy.
“Oh, I know you are,” I know it’s arrogant but I’m hoping my cocky attitude will repulse her enough to make her stay away.