Come to Me Quietly (Closer to You #1)(17)
Author: A.L. Jackson

Careless.

Coming back here. Staying here. All of it.

Taking another drag, I looked up as the sliding glass door slowly opened. Aly’s silhouette emerged in the darkness, her movements somehow softer than they’d been inside.

Just to the side and across from me, she slid down onto the floor. Slowly her face came into focus. She drew one leg to her chest, exposing the skin on the underside of her thigh. She tilted her head to the side, and the length of her black hair fell down around one shoulder, all soft and innocent and a little bit infuriating. This girl was either the biggest tease I’d ever met or was completely oblivious of how perfect she was.

For a while we said nothing, just listened to the sounds of the night, and allowed a distinct pressure to build up around us. I rested my forearms on my knees and let my hands dangle down between them. I wasn’t looking at her, but I could feel her looking at me. With the intensity of it, I thought she might as well go ahead and climb inside my head, because she was definitely getting under my skin.

My nerves flared in a way I didn’t quite understand. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so comfortably uncomfortable, like I wanted to bolt and sink into it all at once. Maybe I was finally slipping over the edge of sanity. God knew I’d been heading there for a long time.

I rocked my head back and lifted my face to the starry night sky as I brought the cigarette to my mouth again. I held it in for a long moment and then slowly blew it into the air. Smoke curled over my head, these wisps of nothingness that I studied as they slowly evaporated.

Finally she spoke. “Are you okay?”

Confusion rumbled through me and I let out a slow sound of exasperation. “I don’t know what I am, Aly. Being here is just… I don’t know… It’s hard.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Studying me, she frowned. “I mean, why did you come back?”

I shrugged as if it made no difference in the world. “I don’t really know.” And I sure as f**k wasn’t going to talk to her about it, even if I did.

Her voice came low, earnest and sincere. “I know you probably think of me as the little girl you used to know, but you can talk to me, Jared.”

My attention dropped to her thigh, rested there for a beat too long. She believed I still thought of her as that little girl, huh? Incredulous laughter slipped out. I took another drag as I shook my head. I chewed at my lip as my eyes found her face. “That’s not how I think of you, Aly.” Not even close.

In the dimness I watched as her green eyes softened, filled with something that appeared too much like affection.

I looked down, away, stubbed out the cigarette.

“You can trust me,” she whispered.

I let my eyes fall closed as I loosely wove my fingers together. I said nothing because I was pretty sure I could trust her. It was me who couldn’t be trusted.

We settled back into the silence, and again I took comfort in the distinct discomfort. I thought maybe she took some, too.

There was something about the summer air in Phoenix. Even though it was hot at night, it was almost refreshing. How many times had we been out in it, playing hide-and-seek in the dark? How much had we laughed?

I’d been comfortable then.

In the far distance, at the lowest point on the horizon, a flicker of lightning edged the sky, this faint warning that the monsoon approached. The storms always seemed to loom in the distance before they engulfed the city, teasing us with the promise of a reprieve. On the few days it did actually rain, it was like a torrent of relief pounding heavily into the ground. The thick scent of rain would rise as it met the dry dirt and hot pavement as the heavens opened up and washed the world anew.

I hadn’t allowed myself to miss many things while I was away, but this… this was one of them.

I had to admit now that I’d missed Christopher, too.

And I’d missed her.

I stood and dusted off my pants, reaching a hand down to her. “Come on, Aly.”

She didn’t hesitate to accept my hand. Her shy smile told me everything. She liked touching me every bit as much as I liked touching her.

Fuck.

This was so very bad.

My muscles flexed along my arm as I pulled her to standing, and her feet came to hold her weight, although for a few seconds I didn’t let go. Finally I forced a casual smile and dropped her hand. Pretending to be the gentleman my mom had always hoped I would be, I slid the door open for her. “After you, Aly Cat.” Of course, I couldn’t keep out a little tease.

She slugged me on the arm as she passed. “See? You are a jerk.”

The next night I sat on the opposite end of the couch from Aly, who was curled up on her side. Those long legs were bent, her knees tucked up close to her chest with her head propped on a pillow that she’d taken three minutes to situate on the armrest. The lights were off, and the television flickered in front of us.

Aly’d gotten off work about an hour before. She’d walked through the door looking exhausted, which she’d confirmed when she dropped the huge-ass bag she always carried on the floor with an exaggerated sigh and followed it up with “I’m exhausted.”

Apparently I was perceptive.

Probably too perceptive because I couldn’t help watching her now. My side was pressed up against the opposite armrest, as far as it would go, while my eyes were constantly drawn toward her. She was relaxed, and looked engrossed in the TV show, although she was probably close to slipping into sleep. She kept shifting her legs, burrowing deeper into the couch, sinking farther into comfort.

How messed up was it that I really wanted to burrow into her comfort, too?

I shook my head and forced myself to look back at the TV.

About half an hour later, the door opened behind us, and I could hear mumbled voices right outside the door. It was easy to make out Christopher when he whispered, “It’s fine. You can come in.”

Christopher slipped in the door, leading this dark brunette toward the hall by the hand. Her eyes widened as she stole a glance in our direction; then she ducked her head and studied the floor. Christopher didn’t even bother with introductions.

In the last week, the guy’d had more girls in this apartment than I could count, and he kicked them out just as fast as he dragged them in. I mean, I had a pretty bad record, or a pretty good one, depending on how you looked at it. But there was something about this that was different. Something that made me feel sympathy for the girls. For him, it seemed a game, kind of like the poker he’d slung last night. Deceitful.