Текст книги "Strictly Temporary Volume One"

Автор книги: Ella Fox

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THE FACT THAT IT’S almost the end of the day on Wednesday confirms what I suspected to begin with—Exton Alexander has forgotten all about me. I don’t know why I got myself all worked up imagining that maybe—just maybe—he might get in contact. It’s not like I wanted him to or anything. Not at all.

A soft sigh escapes me as I absently twirl a pen and think about how absolutely pathetic it is that I’m twenty-five years old and essentially fit the description of being an old maid to a T.

“Deep thoughts, Beautiful?”

Letting out a little gasp I sit straight up in a nanosecond, dropping my pen along the way. Eyes wide with shock, I find myself staring up at Exton Alexander. Holy hell, he’s here, at my desk! My mind is like a hamster running on a wheel as I try to remember what the heck I’m even wearing. Welcome relief spreads through me when I recall that I’m wearing a simple azure colored blouse and a black skirt. I didn’t think he’d turn up . . . but since Sabrina told me that he asked about me, for the last two days I’ve put a little—okay, a lot of—extra thought into my appearance. It doesn’t mean anything though.

Realizing that I need to say something I blurt, “Are you here to see Mr. Hart?”

The smile that spreads across his face as he stares at me is nothing short of panty melting. I mean seriously—I think the suckers just burst into flames and disintegrated and I swear to you that the air between us is crackling with energy. What in the world is happening here?

“I’m here to see someone far more interesting to me than Dante,” he answers.

My mouth opens, then shuts, and then opens again. No words are forthcoming, so I snap it shut without a peep. Instead of filling in the silence, he says nothing, continuing to look at me calmly as I freak the heck out inside.

Exton Alexander is at my desk . . . and he isn’t here to see Dante. Also, he just called me beautiful—again. Would it be awkward if I started squealing and wringing my hands like a Southern debutante on her way to the ball while I try to make sense of what’s happening?

Finally—and trust me, it’s borderline awkward how long it takes for me to be able to form a coherent thought—I croak, “So you’re here for . . .”

“You.”

That’s it. Simple, straightforward, he’s just answered with one word. My mind is officially blown.

Oh. My. Lord. He’s actually here for me. Am I in some kind of alternate universe?

“I don’t understand . . . um . . . why?”

I swear to you, I normally have better verbal skills than this, but my ability to converse seems to have left the building. Maybe I’m dreaming. Grabbing onto that thought, I shake my head. Yes! That must be it. This whole thing—from Friday night on—must be a dream. Sliding my hand down to my knee, I lift my skirt a fraction and pinch myself. Hard.

It hurts like hell and I realize that as unbelievable as this seems, I’m actually awake. This is really happening.

“I couldn’t stay—” he falters for a second, hands sliding into his pockets as he shakes his head. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Why?”

Great—I’m so thrown off by him being here that I am now regressing to being a toddler.

Bringing one of his hands out of his pants pocket, he gestures to me. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since Friday night. Don’t tell me that you don’t feel the chemistry too—it all but floats in the air between us. It’s the same as Friday night—so intense that I can almost see it.”

Crossing my arms—because I’m cold, not because my nipples are probably—no, definitely—poking through my bra, I let out a nervous laugh all while mentally berating myself for acting like an idiot. A hot guy comes onto me and suddenly I’m all flustered.

This just won’t do—time for me to get my act together and put an end to this insanity.

“You’ve had chemistry with pretty much every Victoria’s Secret model for the last decade. I damn well know that I’m no model, so I’m guessing flirting with a fatty is a new way for you to get your kicks. Look, I’m not interested in your games, so I suggest that you find someone else to mind fuck. In fact, you should head off and do that now. Do you need me to validate your parking ticket?”

His head rears back and his mouth falls open for a split-second before he snaps it shut and frowns at me. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, ever. You’re not fat, Beautiful,” he says firmly, “In fact I think you’re fucking perfect. You’re out of your mind if you think that you are anything less than stunning. As for the rest, I get that you’ve got an opinion about my past, but the majority of what you believe is based on bullshit. I’m not here to mind-fuck you. I’m here because I’d like to take you out, and if you weren’t so busy building a case against me, you’d say yes. I can see that you’re as affected as I am.”

Oh, he’s as frustrating as he is sexy.

“I’m not interested in you,” I answer softly.

As he steps closer to me, I realize my mistake. Like an idiot, I’ve just thrown down a challenge to him. What the heck was I even thinking by saying that? I have to remind myself to swallow when he comes around my desk and squats down in front of me.

“I see you’ve decided to lie about what’s happening here,” he laughs softly.

“I’m not lying,” I answer heatedly. “We’re just—too far apart.”

“Ah,” he asks huskily. “That brings up a good point I guess—how old are you, Arden?”

“Twenty-five.”

Tracing a finger up my arm, he leaves a trail of goose bumps in his wake. “I’m ten years older than you. Is that what this is about? Does that bother you?”

Shaking my head I answer truthfully. “No.”

“Then there must be another reason that you’re fighting this as hard as you are. Why are you lying about what you want?”

His straightforward questioning makes me defensive. “Is it really so hard for you to grasp that I’m just not attracted to you?”

With a tsk-tsk sound, he shakes his head. “Are you an actress?”

Swallowing past the desert in my mouth I answer simply. “No.”

“That’s right,” he says huskily, “You’re not. Which means that the chemistry between us is one hundred percent real. Your mouth likes to throw up roadblocks, but your body is a different story entirely. I’ll bet every last dime I have that right now you’re wet for me. Your body knows what it wants, Arden. You can lie to me, and say that isn’t true, but I can see it in your eyes. You want me as much as I want you. You’re fighting so hard to stay away from something that’s going to be so good. Forget who you think that I am or what you’ve heard about me, and focus on this—right here, right now. Will you take a chance on me? Let me prove that what you think you know about me is wrong.”

I want to say yes. Badly. In fact, it’s hovering right on the tip of my tongue, and I’m about to go for it. Suddenly, my memory throws up a reminder of the last time someone told me that they were going to prove me wrong. That time I wound up making the biggest mistake of my life. I can’t afford another go-round like that, mentally or physically.

Pushing my chair back, I stand. Looking down at him, I shake my head. “My answer is no, and it’s always going to be no. It’s the end of the day and I’ve got things to do so I’m going to go. Have a nice life!”

Without giving him a chance to say anything else, I grab my purse from under my desk and scurry away. Of course by scurry, I mean I’m half running. Nothing weird about that, right?

After I got home and took my shower last night, I stood naked in front of my mirror and looked myself over as I tried to understand how Exton Alexander could possibly be attracted to me. Throwing that bit at him about flirting with the fatty was nothing more than a defense mechanism to me after spending most of my young life being called Larden or fat ass.

I’m not fat, but I’m not a size zero model, either. I eat food—regularly—and I’ve got curves. My boobs alone are ridiculously bigger than those of Exton’s usual arm candy. In addition to being skinny as hell, most of the girls he’s seen with have boobs that are no bigger than a small C cup and they’re all tan and glowing. I’m a D cup having, size eight wearing, pale-skinned normal woman. The sun hates me so I never take on any color, my hair is long, and black, and I never color it or add highlights. Exton’s women are literally high maintenance beauties—in comparison, I am essentially the exact opposite.

After I finished assessing myself, I spent last night tossing and turning like a mad woman. I was equal parts furious with and proud of myself for saying no. This morning I realized that I’m a grown ass woman and I don’t need to hide from men in my apartment forever. I’ve never been attracted to anyone in the way that I am to Exton—what was really going to be the harm in me saying yes to a date? At worst we’d have wound up having a decent date followed by sex and it would’ve been as awkward and un-enjoyable as the other two times I’ve had sex. At best it would’ve been a good date followed by some decent sex and I’d at least have had the memory of the one time I cut loose and did something fun.

Or not.

It doesn’t matter now though—I shot him down so I know I won’t be seeing or hearing from him again.

I was tense this morning because I was sure that Sabrina was going to say something about it, but she never did. It seemed like he didn’t tell her what happened yesterday, at least not yet, which was a blessing because I really didn’t feel like talking about it.

In the middle of tidying up my desk so that I can leave for the day—to go home and berate myself some more—the private line straight to my desk rings. Seeing that it’s Sabrina, I smile as I pick up the phone. “Hey Rina, what’s up?”

She lets out what sounds like a frustrated sigh as I wait for her to answer. “So I left early to go check on the restaurant Dante’s been working on in West LA . . .”

There’s a long pause, so I prod her to continue. “Yeah?”

“I left my purse there and everyone is gone for the day. If I give you the door code will you pretty please with a cherry on top go pick it up and bring it to work with you tomorrow to give to Dante? I hate to ask but it’s got all of my stuff in it. Dante’s not answering his cell and I’m here with the kids. Vivi isn’t feeling well—”

I cut her off without hesitating. “It’s no problem. I’m just about to leave now. What’s wrong with Vivi? Is she okay?” Vivienne is Sabrina and Dante’s youngest and she’s the most adorable four-year old I’ve ever met. They adopted her when she was three and within two months, it was like she’d been with them since birth. I’m crazy about her to be honest, and I’ve considered adopting a child myself one day because I can see how amazing it is for everyone involved.

Before Sabrina can respond to my question, I hear Vivi’s sing song voice. “Mommy, daddy says that Uncle—”

“Crap, I have to go. Thanks for doing this, Arden, I’ll message you the code right now! See you Monday. Bye!”

Without another word, Sabrina hangs up. It’s unusual for her to be so short, but I guess Vivi feeling sick must have her frazzled. The poor child must have a stomach bug or something because her voice sounds just fine.

Traffic into WeHo isn’t bad, so I’m at the site within twenty minutes. This is one of Dante’s pet projects, so it’s on his daily manifest a lot, but I’ve never seen it in person so I take a minute to get my bearings before approaching the door. From the outside it looks to be finished, but God only knows what I’m walking into on the inside. Hopefully it isn’t too bad because I’m wearing three-inch heels and I have nothing to change into.

Stepping up to the rear door, I startle when it opens before I can enter the code. Looking up, I let out a strangled sound of shock when I find myself face to face with Exton. Again.

He looks so good in his charcoal gray pants, black shirt and gray tie that my mouth goes dry as I quickly give thanks that I didn’t have sneakers to change into. In my black dress and three-inch heels I don’t feel out of place, which is a relief. The problem right now is that I smell a rat.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask.

Smiling, he gestures for me to come in. “I’m one of the owners,” he says casually as he guides me into the restaurant.

The first thing I notice is that there is the most amazing smell wafting through the air. Dammit, I forgot to eat lunch and whatever the smell is, it’s making my mouth water. Wait a second—if this is a construction site, how is it that I can smell food?

Coming to a halt beside Exton, I take the room in with wide-eyed shock. For all intents and purposes, it’s finished. The majority of the tables and chairs aren’t in place, but in the center of the room one round table is completely set up, right down to two full place settings.

Turning to my right, I glare at Exton. “This isn’t a construction site at all. Is Sabrina’s purse even here?”

God help me, the look he gives me looks a lot like a plea for understanding, and it makes me want to agree to anything he’s about to say before he even has a chance to get it out.

“No,” he answers carefully. “Listen, you should know that I really had to beg to get her to agree to help, so don’t be angry with her. To be honest, she wouldn’t budge so I had to call in the big guns and she really isn’t happy with me right now. To be blunt, I wanted to see you again. Let’s have a meal and talk. What do you say?”

The rubber is meeting the road for me right now. Last night I spent a good portion of time upset with myself for not trying something different. If I keep my guard up and I give Exton nothing to hurt me with, I’ll be fine.

With a deep breath for courage, I nod. “I can’t believe I’m doing this but . . . fine. I’ll have dinner with you.”

His smile of relief makes me feel all quivery inside. “You won’t regret this,” he says firmly. I shiver as he sets his hand on my lower back to guide me to the table. I’m surprised to find that my natural response is to lean into him. I only just barely manage to keep myself from doing just that.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but when we get to the table he pulls the chair out for me and stands at my side like a gentleman as I settle in. Only when I’m in place does he walk around the table to sit down himself.

My heart is racing and my mind is blown because I’m sitting at a candlelit dinner table in an otherwise empty restaurant with Exton. I don’t know if I can take it further than this, but I’m proud of myself for having dinner with a man for the first time in five years.

“So,” I say nervously, “You own this?”

Smiling at me, he nods. “I’m what’s called a silent owner. Dante and I each put up some money for our friend from college, Lazarus Charles, to start his own place.”

“Oh my gosh,” I say excitedly. “Lazarus is opening his own restaurant? I watched his season of Chef-Tacular! I was totally rooting for him, not that silver haired witch who screamed at everyone in the kitchen.”

Nodding in agreement, Exton laughs. “He really should have won, but in the end it’s probably been a blessing for him that he didn’t. If he had, he’d be under contract with the Flavor Network for five years and they would’ve owned his ass. This way he got his name out there to a national audience and that will bring people in here. Once it gets big, and I know that it will, he’ll buy Dante and I out. This was just our way to support our friend so that he could strike while the iron is hot.”

I like the fact that he is supportive of his friend, a lot. It makes him more human to me—less like someone that I can think of as being just some douchebag celebrity with no real connections.

“Not only is that a great friend thing to do, it’s amazing for people like me who wanted Lazarus to succeed.” Toning down my excitement level a bit, I let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I’m a total foodie. I love to watch food shows and dream about eating in some of the restaurants they showcase.”

“Don’t apologize, I think it’s perfect. I’m a foodie too, thanks to Laz. When we roomed together in college I didn’t know the difference between a corndog and a five star meal, but he and Dante changed all of that. The meals that used to come out of the kitchen at our house were nothing short of perfection.”

Shaking my head in wonder I say, “I really need to talk to Sabrina about the fact that neither she nor Dante have ever said a word about knowing either one of you. The only thing you’ve said so far that I did know is that Dante can cook. Sabrina says that it’s one of the reasons she loves him.”

We’re interrupted when a server comes out and pours iced water for both of us as he confirms with Exton what bottle of wine will be paired with the appetizer. As soon as the waiter departs, he turns his attention right back to me.

“That’s probably my fault,” he says. “He felt like he’d failed me as a friend somehow after one of his former—uh, flings I guess you would call it—turned up at my house. Naked. She’d gone through his phone and had pulled my contact card. He felt responsible because he’d introduced me to her, but that was bullshit. She was a psycho, and he couldn’t have known. Unfortunately the die was cast when that happened so he’s always been a lot more tight-lipped about our friendship. I knew that Sabrina was it for him when he told me that he wanted me to meet her. While they were dating I was off in Dubai working on Snowing Sand, so when I got home and met her they were already married. Since then she’s become like family to me, so I think she’s as protective as he is. I know they didn’t mean any offense by keeping it quiet. They both speak very highly of you.”

I can’t help but smile. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not offended—I was just playing around. To be honest, it’s no less than I would expect from them. If I didn’t see their family coming in and out of the building, I wouldn’t know that they’re related to the Renegade Saints. They’re not the type of people that need to brag about knowing celebrities, which only makes them that much more amazing in my book. I’ll tell you what’s weird though,” I say with a chuckle.

Raising an eyebrow at me he asks, “What?”

“I had no idea that you were Uncle E. I started going to the kids’ birthday parties and other family events over the last year but you were never there. I assumed Uncle E was a relative that lived far away.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve missed several things this year, all because I was in Montreal while the last script I did was being shot. Now I’m stationary for the foreseeable future while I work on my next project.”

As I absently run my finger around the rim of my water glass I ask, “What are you working on now?”

His eyes light up as he leans forward. “I’m working on a TV show about an underground MMA club. It’s dark, violent and gritty, but I really think it’s the best thing I’ve written in years, if not my best ever. It’s exciting and different and the great thing is that with TV I’ll be able to give the story a lot more depth.”

I feel a twinge of jealousy about his enthusiasm for writing, but mostly I’m feeding off of his excitement. “That’s awesome,” I say happily. “I can tell that you’re really passionate about this.”

“Once I know that I’m supposed to do something, I always see it through,” he replies. The fact that he looks straight into my eyes as he says it tells me that had a double meaning. I really don’t know why he’s so interested in me, but I can’t imagine that it will last very long.

Our server interrupts us when he brings out a tray filled with plates. One by one they’re set on the table and my stomach growls as I survey it all. Looking up at Exton, I shake my head in shock. “There are so many options,” I say with a laugh.

Exton picks up a fork and knife as he winks at me, then slices into something and holds it up for me to take a bite. “Laz is very passionate about people enjoying his food,” he says huskily. “I asked him to prepare the signature Italian feast he’s famous for. You made my day when you told me that you’re a fellow foodie. You can’t imagine what you’re in for when these flavors explode across your tongue.”

Opening my mouth, I accept the forkful of food that he’s offering. Closing my eyes I barely contain a sound of pure bliss as the taste of what is undoubtedly the best calamari I’ve ever had invades my senses. It’s so good that it’s actually magical.

Bite after bite of the delicious fare makes its way into both of our mouths as we continue talking about our lives. Whether intentional or not, we more or less avoid talk of the distant past, something that helps to settle my nerves. I don’t talk to anyone about what happened to me in the past and I’d like to keep it that way.

We have very similar interests, including taste in movies and television. He makes me laugh with stories about living with Lazarus and Dante, and I tell him all about my Friday night food ritual with my local Chinese place and my obsession with Scentsy products. We talk about our parents and discover that neither of us have fathers in our lives. He tells me a bit about his mom, Edina, and laughs as he admits that she still refers to him as her baby boy. Once Exton graduated college, Edina moved to the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. I crack up when he tells me that her hippy-ish ways have really flourished being there, so much so that she refuses to get a cell phone because they’re responsible for the downfall of society.

I tell him a little bit about my mom and my stepfather, chuckling as I admit to my complete lack of knowledge about anything poker related and how when they’re telling me what’s happening during the tournaments, I’m completely lost by all the lingo. He tells me that he tagged along with a professional poker player for one crazy weekend in Vegas while doing research for a script, but that he had to but it on the back burner because he just couldn’t connect with the game.

By the time the entrees have been taken, I’m in food heaven. Every time there’s been something new to try, Exton serves the first bite to me. I’ve never had a man feed me before—hell, if I had to guess the last time anyone fed me anything, I’d say it was probably my mom feeding me baby food. The first few times he did it I felt nervous about it, but now I have to admit that I’m getting used to it, and I have to admit that it’s sweet. There’s something sensual about it, but it’s also very gentlemanly of him—which I wasn’t expecting.

After all the courses are served and we’ve sampled everything that we possibly could—including the most amazing Italian cream cake in the history of the world—we’re enjoying espressos.

Staring at me across the table, he reaches his hand out and slides it over mine. “Will you come out with me again?” He asks.

I’ve been calm this whole time, but now there are butterflies in my stomach. Mentally yelling at myself to keep it together, I’m silent as I get my thoughts together and assure myself that I can actually do this. Finally, I nod my agreement.

“Yes.”

His responding smile is in no way cocky—instead, he just looks genuinely happy, and perhaps a bit relieved, something that immediately triggers something in my head.

“You’ve never had to work this hard for a date before, have you?”

Embarrassed that I’ve just said that out loud, I yank my hand back and cover my eyes. “Sorry, sorry—I was thinking it, I didn’t mean to actually say it!”

“Stop, beautiful. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. If you want to know anything about me, you just ask. To answer your question, I’m going to shoot straight and give you the complete truth. I’ve never actually taken anyone on a date before, ever.”

Dropping my hand from my eyes, I gape at him. “That’s impossible! I’ve seen a bazillion pictures of you out with the Victoria’s Secret model du jour.”

As he rubs at his neck, I definitely notice a flush on his cheeks. “Well, that sounds fucking awful, and now I get why you assumed that I’m some kind of asshole player. To be blunt, those weren’t dates. They wanted to be seen with me and have a good time, and I wanted—well, I’m sure you can imagine. It was never serious on either end and no one ever got hurt. We would go places together, but it wasn’t like this. I’ve never asked a woman out on a date and to be honest, I’ve never wanted to. Not until I found you.”

What does he mean when he says until I found you, I wonder to myself.

“It means that when I saw you, I immediately knew.”

Wide eyed I stare at him. “Did I just think that out loud?”

He smiles at me, and then winks. “You did. I like the way you just blurt things out.”

“The fact that around you I seem to have some kind of Tourette’s issue doesn’t make me seem . . . weird?”

“No, Beautiful. It makes you perfect. You’re exactly what I need. In fact, I think you were created just for me.”

Before I can respond to that, Lazarus Charles is walking toward our table. I live in LA and I see celebrities often enough, but knowing that I’m about to meet Chef Lazarus—and be able to tell him how amazing his food is—is actually really cool.

Coming to a stop next to the table, he claps a hand down on Exton’s shoulder. “I see my fine cooking saved your ass, Ex.”

Throwing his head back, Exton laughs. “That it did, man. That it did. Laz, this is Arden. Arden, this is my best friend, Lazarus.”

Turning to me, Lazarus holds out his arm to shake my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet the woman that finally brought this moron to his knees. You’re as beautiful as he described.”

I know that I’m flushing, but I can’t help it. Completely glossing over what he said I say, “I can’t tell you how delicious dinner was. This was the best meal I’ve ever had.”

Lazarus stays and talks to us for a few minutes. After he leaves, Exton and I prepare to make our own exit. I’m shocked when he immediately gets to his feet and helps me from my chair.

I go into some kind of shock when he takes my hand in his and links our fingers together. When we get to my car, I’m struggling not to fidget. I’m basically struck dumb when he reaches up with his free hand and runs his fingers through my hair. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

I want to say yes, I really do, but I know that I can’t, not if I want to stay emotionally unattached. With a shake of my head I say, “Not tomorrow. Maybe next week?”

Blowing out a breath, Exton looks at me with confusion. “What the hell is this about?”

Looking away from him as I pull my hand out of his, I take a deep breath. “Look, I’m not stupid. I know that this is going to be strictly temporary and I’m fine with that. You’re you and I’m, well—not meant to be a part of your kind of lifestyle for long. Let’s not overdo it by pretending that it’s anything else. We don’t need to spend a ton of time together to do what it is that we both want to do.”

His harsh inhalation suggests that he’s not thrilled with my answer. Sliding two of his fingers under my chin, he gently tips my face up so that I’m looking at him.

“I can’t tell if you really believe the shit you’re saying or if you’re saying the words in the hopes that you will. For starters, anything you know about my lifestyle is bullshit. My last big mistake was being dumb enough to go home with a girl who forgot to tell me that in addition to wanting to fuck like she was a cheap porn star, she was looking to get her fifteen minutes of fame for doing it. Other than that, everything else you see is garbage. If you’ve got questions or concerns, straight up ask me and I’ll tell you the truth. As for the rest of that nonsense you spewed—that’s a bunch of crap. Strictly temporary, Beautiful? That’s what you think this is?”

Swallowing past my anxiety, I nod. “That’s what I know it is, and I’m fine with that. I don’t want anything more so it’s easier just to say that straight away. Everything I hear about you might not be a hundred percent true, but where there’s smoke there’s usually—”

He cuts me off before I can finish, covering my lips with his. I gasp involuntarily, which gives him the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. My arms immediately go around his shoulders as I lean into him and meet his tongue with mine. As soon as I do, he slides one of his hands down to my hip and pulls me closer to him while at the same time backing me up against the car so that we’re right up against each other.

He smells and tastes amazing and I can’t help the moan that escapes my throat as he deepens the kiss. I lose track of everything as he kisses me damn near stupid. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been before in my life and I can’t stop myself from rubbing against him suggestively. Holy hell, this man can kiss.

When he takes his mouth off mine, I groan and slide my hand into the back of his hair and try to bring him back to me. I want more—I want everything. After dropping a soft kiss on my lips, he smiles down at me.

“There’s smoke and fire here, baby. If you can look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve ever felt anything like that, you’d be lying to both of us. This isn’t some bullshit temporary thing, beautiful.”

I’m getting into this too fast. Shaking my head, I push him away. “Don’t crowd me, Exton. Give me space and call me next week. We’ll take it from there.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but I quickly cover it with my hand so that he can’t speak. “It’s been a great night, please don’t ruin it.”

The look he gives me says that he has more to say, but instead of arguing, he nods before kissing the palm of my hand.

“Alright beautiful, I’ll keep my response to myself for now. Get yourself home safely and we’ll talk later.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, I smile. “Thank you.”

Just like in the restaurant he’s a perfect gentleman, helping me into my car and closing the door once I’m inside. During the entire drive home I think about him and the kiss as I run my index finger over my swollen lips. I know that I’m doing the right thing by setting up parameters and keeping my distance. This is just the way that it has to be.