Page 52 of Hannah.
Oh, this prick. Anger flushes through me first, followed by the green sting of jealousy. What's worse is that I can't even truly be angry with him because Hannah isn't mine. The thought of grabbing Conrad's hand and dragging him to the bedroom to show him who is hiding in there, her face flush and her lips wet from my kiss, is tempting, but I immediately brush that away. Then I look down at the bags.
Cartier? God, that's what he thinks will win Hannah over? I think about her stolen collection and the affection and reverence with which she handled the items when she showed them to me, and the idea of giving her Cartier seems almost offensive. Compared to what I know Hannah values, Cartier seems so banal and tacky.
“Seriously, man? You think buying her mainstream jewelry is going to work? She's not a fucking escort.”
Conrad's face tightens in annoyance. “You didn't even see what I picked out. Why on earth are you so pissed off?”
“Because I’ve seen this song and dance from you before.” I wave my hands at the bags, my tone annoyed. “You have this habit of trying to fast-track your way to a woman's heart by trying to buy her affection.”
There's a flash of hurt in his eyes, and damn him, I do feel bad. His past relationships haven’t been stellar, but it wasn't all his fault, either. And he’s my friend. How could he possibly know I’d move heaven and earth to please Hannah? That the idea of another man taking her on a date, even Conrad, makes me volcanic with anger?
“That's not what this is about,” he tells me, all the enthusiasm from when he first arrived gone. “Oh, and I wanted to invite you out for a drink, but seeing what kind of mood you’re in, I’m not sure if it's a good idea.”
I shake my head once. “I’ve got things to do, Conrad. I’m sorry.”
“We could just have something here—” he starts, but I walk past him and open the door.
“I’m dealing with a private issue right now, and I just need some space. We'll catch up later, okay?”
He continues to look hurt and now rejected, but he nods in understanding and gathers his bags, hesitating once he’s in the hall. “You know you can talk to me, man. If you need to.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “I know.”
Finally, he’s gone, and I’m shutting the door, heaving a sigh of relief as I do so. Hell, that was close. Too close.
“You can come out now!” I yell, going to grab my wine glass off the coffee table and downing the entire thing in one drink.
Hannah steps out of the closet with a playful twinkle in her eyes. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? Possessive professor Johan, not thrilled about my evening plans?”
I roll my eyes, attempting nonchalance. “Possessive? And no, I’m not thrilled. Conrad seems like a?—”
“A what? A bad guy?” She smirks, clearly enjoying pushing my buttons.
“No, not a bad guy. Just not... someone you should be spending your evening with.” I try to sound casual, but my words carry an unintended edge.
Hannah raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? And why's that, Johan?”
“He’s…Conrad,” I mumble, realizing how feeble my argument sounds.
“Insightful as always,” she teases, sauntering with a teasing smile. “Relax. It’s just a date. I’m not running off with him.”
I sigh, caught between irritation and the absurdity of my possessive feelings. “You could do better than Conrad.”
“Maybe, but I won’t know until I try,” she quips, giving me a knowing look that only fuels my internal turmoil. “You've gotAstrid; it's time for me to find someone too,” she reminds me as if daring to argue.
“No, you aren't going out with him—” I begin, my attempt to sound composed falling apart as panic simmers beneath the surface. The idea of her being with someone else, especially Conrad, irks me more than I admit.
“There's nothing you can do about it,” Hannah asserts stubbornly, challenging me.
“Oh yes, there is,” I counter, determination coloring my words. Without another thought, I close the distance between us, leaning in to capture her lips in a kiss. It’s a bold move, an instinctive response to the fear that she might slip away, that Conrad might become more than just a casual date.
Her arms twine around my neck as she kisses me back, her nails scraping over my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I can taste the desperation on her tongue, the desire that has held us hostage for years, the affection she has for me...
It’s everything.
I pull back just far enough to rest my forehead against hers. “I’m going to ensure you don't ever dream about anyone but me.”
Then I kiss her again, scooping her up until her legs twine around my waist once more. I don't press her against the wall this time but carry her to the bedroom. And instead of the closet, this time, I take her to the bed.