Lost in Distraction (Lost #1)(6)
Author: B.J. Harvey

I start noticing her little mannerisms. Like how she breathes deeply and slowly when she’s thinking, but then starts fidgeting when her mind wanders. When she is frustrated or stumped, she bites the pad of her thumb between her front teeth. And she blushes…a lot. She almost catches me watching her, but I quickly look down at my work and grin when I see her sneaking glances my way. She is still a total enigma to me. Considering what I know about her family, her past and the fact that she’s being targeted by some dangerous people, you’d think I wouldn’t be attracted to her, but I find myself wanting to be near her all the time.

A knock on the door breaks our concentration and we both look up as one of our classmates comes in. “Hey, guys. Sorry to bother you, but your time is up.”

I glance down at my watch. “Oh, man. I can’t believe we’ve been in here for over three hours.”

Elle nods her head. “I guess we just lost track of time.”

I stare into her eyes and I know exactly why it is easy to lose track of time when I’m with her. She mesmerizes me, and she is a lot easier to talk to now that she is slowly letting her guard down.

Even if it is a little bit at a time.

I watch as she stands up and starts collecting her things. I don’t want to end my time with her yet, so thinking on my feet I come up with a plan. “Do you want to grab something to eat with me? Think of it as a reward for all the work we’ve done today.”

She seems a little taken aback by my invitation. “Um…sure, sounds good. But can we swing by my place and drop my stuff off?”

“Sure, that’s a great idea. Let’s go,” I reply, clearing my books away.

I stand and head for the door, waiting for Elle to join me. I wasn’t planning on sharing a meal with her tonight, but I want to get her talking again without the distraction of school work. I’m hoping she’ll open up to me and be completely honest. I want to know everything I can about the elusive Elle Halliwell.

I’m standing in my bathroom, trying to pull myself together.

When Brax asks me out for something to eat, I’m surprised. I’ll admit that I’m starving, but I’m surprised by his invitation. Maybe he heard my stomach rumbling and felt the need to feed me to shut it up.

I can’t work out why he is so interested in me. I’m aloof, standoffish, and to be honest, shut off. Why would anyone want to spend any longer than they had to with me? In my dark moments, I don’t even want to spend time with myself.

So now he’s in my living room and I’m in my bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror while trying to hold off a panic attack. I don’t invite people into my home, but I didn’t really think about it when I asked to drop by my apartment. It’s my sanctuary, my escape from the big bad world out there, and Brax is the first person I’ve ever allowed inside.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I think back to my past experiences with men. It has been limited to meaningless hookups while trying to make myself feel something again. I’ve learned that there are two types of men. The ones who are forward and go after what they want, and the ones that work slowly, gently pushing their way in and then striking while the iron is hot. Brax is obviously a believer in the latter. It has only been a week and we’ve already met up twice, texted, and now a meal. He comes across as someone who doesn’t want to miss an opportunity when it presents itself.

It’s not like he knows much about me. I could be some crazy psycho woman who has ten cats and a secret teaspoon collecting fetish. He could be a fugitive or a closet evangelist wanting to save my soul.

God, I hope not.

I sit down on the edge of my bathtub and put my head between my legs, trying to concentrate on slowing down my breathing. It’s only dinner for Christ’s sake, not a lifelong commitment. Pull yourself together, Elle. I quickly check my makeup and hair and wash my hands before heading towards the living room.

I walk through the hallway door. He’s staring out my window with a troubled look on his face. Maybe he has changed his mind about dinner or about being here with me.

“Brax?” I question quietly.

When he turns around, his eyes widen and I’m met with a look of shock that quickly grows into a wide grin. I’ve changed into a tight, short sleeved, red top, black skinny jean paired with my favorite black knee-high boots and finished off with a black bolero to cover my arms. As he looks me up and down, the look on his face turns into something more, his eyes are full of lust, bordering on hunger. He walks towards me holding out his hand and stares me straight in the eyes.

“Elle, you look stunning. I feel almost unworthy now.”

“You look good too, Brax.”

We just stand there, silently taking each other in, and my panic disappears. Suddenly I feel a blanket of calm surround me. This is surreal. I haven’t felt embraced like this since my family was alive. He breaks the spell.

“Let’s get you fed,” he says, lacing our fingers together in an intimate move that shocks me, but I don’t let it show as he moves me towards the front door. My hand feels so warm in his.

If this is what it feels like to get too close to the fire, I’m feeling more and more inclined to give myself up to the flame.

Halfway to our destination, I suddenly realize that I haven’t told Elle where we are going.

“You like pizza, right?”

“Of course. What college student doesn’t?” she retorts with a smile.

God, I love it when she smiles. It may not be a huge ‘light up the room’ grin, but seeing how she distances herself from everything, a small smile from her is a concession I’ll take anytime.

We arrive at the pizzeria and take a booth towards the back. I make sure I’m facing the door, back to the wall. It’s a habit that has been ingrained into me through my years of training, just like scanning the place automatically when we walk in.

I’m well aware that I’m seven years older than Elle, but thankfully she hasn’t shown any sign that our age difference bothers her. God, I hope it doesn’t. I’m trying to act a little younger, but I don’t want to pretend with Elle. She deserves more than that.

A waitress approaches our table. “Hi! I’m Tina, your waitress for the evening. What can I get you guys to drink?”

On autopilot I reply, “A beer,” wincing when I realize that Elle isn’t old enough to drink.

“I can drink a soda or something if it makes you uncomfortable?” I say to her.