The National and Speedy Ortiz.”
“Would you think I’m superlame if I admit I’ve only heard of one of those?”
“Passenger,” he guessed.
I nodded. “He toured with Ed Sheeran. I have a friend who saw their show. She said it was amazing.”
He sipped his tea, seeming pensive. “That’s one thing I miss.”
“What?”
“Concerts. And going to clubs in the city to check out a new indie group.” At my expression, which was probably something like well, you can still go, he added, “I know what you’re thinking. When my parents have Sam, I could still see a concert or hit up a club.”
I pretended to peer at him suspiciously. “You didn’t tell me you were psychic.”
“It’s complicated,” he muttered.
“Enlighten me. The party’s still going strong, so I have nothing but time.”
“The people I started college with have graduated, gotten jobs and moved away. The guys at work are all a lot older, and they’re not interested in hanging out after hours.”
“Make new friends,” I suggested.
“Most people aren’t interested in getting to know someone who can’t be spontaneous, who’s on a completely fixed schedule and may be a grumpy asshole on any given day.”
“Yet here I am.”
“Yeah, well. You’re...unique.”
Is that a compliment? It could go either way. I decided it didn’t matter; I’d already settled on friendship. Still, I can’t believe I’m suggesting this.
“We could see a concert sometime—on your off weekend. If you plan for it, you could nap on Saturday afternoon and be primed for revelry that night.”
“Maybe,” he said.
To cover my disappointment, I lowered my head and stared into my mug. The tea was a lovely shade of amber; if it steeped any longer it would be too strong, so I fished the bag out with my spoon, wrapped the string around the handle and set it on the steamer trunk. For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Tonight wasn’t working out like I’d hoped, and the first achy burn of tears stung at the back of my throat.
“God. This face, you show me everything. I hope you don’t play poker. They’d rob you blind.” His voice was disturbingly gentle, tender even, and closer than I expected.
While I was looking everywhere but at him, Ty slid closer, his hand hovering in the air between us. From this distance I could feel the overwhelming warmth of him, and I wanted his touch more than my next breath. So I held it, fighting ridiculous, uncharacteristic tears, until his palm settled on my cheek.
“What—” I started to say, but I had no idea where I was going with that sentence.
“I’m going to be straight with you...because this dance is killing me. Don’t imagine for a second that I don’t want you. Your legs keep me up at night, and those eyes... You know when I first saw you, I thought you were probably a model?”
I laughed shakily. “Really?”
Finally, we’re getting somewhere.
“If you were wondering, the answer is yes. I want to fuck you so bad it hurts.”
The breath whooshed right out of me, and all the tingles centered low. “I like where this is going.”
“It’s a problem,” he said frankly. “Because I really like you. And I don’t date. I don’t bring girls home to Sam.”
“But...he’s already met me,” I said foolishly.
“That’s why I can’t sleep with you. We’re friends. We have to be. Because you live in my building, because you’re smart, funny, and I like you, and you work at Rainbow Academy. If we hook up and it doesn’t work out, it’ll change how we are together, and that would hurt Sam. Is any of this making sense?”
To be honest, I was still fixed on him saying he wanted to fuck me so much it hurt. I let that longing wash over me for a moment, then I nodded, his palm sliding with a seductive rasp against my cheek. “I understand, that all makes sense. But it doesn’t explain why you’ve been staring at my mouth for the last five minutes.”
Deep in his throat, Ty made a sound that curled my toes, and then, as if he couldn’t help it, he brought his other hand up to frame my face.
As Ty gazed at me, his nostrils flared and his breath came faster. His brown eyes had a sleepy, hooded look. I knew he wanted to kiss me, despite all the sound reasons he’d just listed why it could never happen.
“There are no rules against it,” he said huskily.
What? Looking.
It was really hard to think with his face so close, but I couldn’t make myself pull back. So I did the only reasonable thing; I put my arms around him. When I leaned into him, he let go of my face and cradled me against his chest. His heat and solid strength sent a delicious shock through me, and he didn’t help matters by rubbing his cheek against my head.
It’s a hug. Friends hug.
There was no way I could resist touching his hair, now that I finally had him so close, and it slipped through my fingers like coppery satin. He let out a little groan and leaned into my hands. Encouraged, I stroked in gentle little swoops, until he was practically purring.
“You’re a ginger tabby,” I teased as he turned, so I could reach the other side.
“Please,” he mumbled. “I’m totally a battle-scarred tom.”
He nuzzled his face against my neck, making my pulse jump. This was a misty gray area because he was definitely turning me on with the rasp of his scruff against the tender skin of my throat. But his heartbeat was slowing. Getting comfortable, I kicked off my shoes, and Ty, who wasn’t wearing any, ended up sprawled in my lap, and he closed his eyes as I brushed the hair from his brow in rhythmic strokes.
“Whatever.” I couldn’t believe I was in his apartment, cuddling him.
It wasn’t what I wanted but it was better than nothing. It would have to be enough. “This okay?” I asked, just to be sure.
“Better than. Don’t stop.”
Featherlight, I traced the slight arch of his nose, the plane of his cheekbone down to his jaw, around his mouth and over the bristled jut of his chin, which he lifted to give me better access. Eyes closed, he was smiling with an expression that registered as pure bliss. I’d swear he was starved for physical contact, let alone sex.
“Can I ask a personal question?”
“This is probably
