Page 28 of Lawson
Lawson pulls back, nothing but desire and mischief in those eyes. “Hypothetically,” he adds, and I can’t help but laugh. I find myself doing that with him more than I ever thought I would.
“What if after an hour you didn’t want anymore?” I ask. “Hypothetically.”
“There is no version of that fantasy that exists where I wouldn’t want hours with you, Blakely.”
I swallow hard, my heart hammering in my chest as we gaze into each other’s eyes. God, I want the fantasy he’s painted. I want to feel alive. I want to burn like his kiss makes me burn.
The song comes to an end, and I immediately detach myself from Lawson, needing space before I do what my friends suggest and climb him like the tree he is.
“Restroom,” I mutter the word, the only one I'm able to get out without him being able to notice the shakiness in my voice.
He nods, watching me walk through the ballroom and out into the hallway where the restrooms are located. I quickly go in the lady’s room and splash some cold water on my face, just enough to shock me out of my lust-hazy vibe and not enough to mess up my makeup.
The water doesn’t help much, if at all. I look at myself in the mirror and almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. She has a bright smile on her face, one laced withdesire, not an ounce of it hidden.
I don’t look like the proper little figure skating princess Brian always painted me up to be. I look like a confident, strong skating coach. One who knowsexactlywhat she wants.
And right now? It’s Lawson.
In this private little moment, I indulge myself, letting myself think about it for just a few seconds.
I want him. I’d wanted him since the moment he kissed me and I didn't know who he was. I wanted him that much more when he kissed me the other day in the parking lot. And I want him infinitely more now after he’s treated me with such care tonight.
And maybe it’s an act. Maybe this is the game he plays with every woman he meets. Maybe this is exactly how he earned that extensive romantic history, but who cares? He makes me feel safe and wanted and sexy. Isn’t that enough to take things further? Especially if they wouldn’t amount to anything serious? He doesn’t want a relationship and neither do I, which makes the me-being-his-coach thing less important. Because if it’s a purely physical situation, then there will never be a problem during the professional part.
I’m tempted to send my thoughts off to the girls’ group chat, but even trying to type that out seems like a risk. It’s one thing to entertain these thoughts here and now, but to put them out in the open for the universe to judge and analyze?
No thanks.
It’s been ages since I’ve had this much fun, and I don’t intend for it to stop now.
A flower of apprehension blooms in my chest, nerves tangling in that exciting way when the possibilities seem endless. When fantasies seem so close to reality.
I bite my bottom lip, unable to contain my smile as I decide, why the hell not? I can present him with a scenario, and he can either go for it or not. Nothing has to change.
With the new sense of determination and confidence washing over me, I walk out of the bathroom, eager and almost drunk on the possibilities?—
“Blakely,” Brian's voice sounds just seconds before I run smack dab into his chest.
I immediately back up a few steps, my brow furrowing at his sudden appearance outside the women's restroom in the hallway outside the ballroom.
“Brian,” I say, and take a deep breath to slow my racing heart.
The racing heart that was excited not two seconds ago, and it’s now quivering in uncomfortable fear. Which makes me incredibly sad, because at one point I let this man know the most intimate parts of me, had given him my heart to take care of and he’d crushed it over and over again in small sections, slowly, to where I barely even noticed until they’d become a collective loss, and I became somebody I didn't recognize.
I’m not that person anymore, and I’ve worked hard to put my heart back together.
“Are you having a good time?” I ask, opting for civility in the hopes that he’ll return it. I could question him for his presence, but of course he was invited to this event. Why he decided to corner me outside the women's restroom is a whole other thing.
“I'd be having a better time if you weren't throwing yourself at that pretty-boy Badger.” He looks me up and down, shaking his head as his eyes trail the length of my plunging neckline.
The look turns my stomach, and I seriously question my judgment when I realize I used to dress topleasethis man.
“I'm not throwing myself at anybody,” I say. “Not that it's any of your business. How many times do I have to tell you?—”
“You and I are meant to be together,” he cuts me off. I clench my eyes shut. “You and I have plans.”
Adrenaline cuts into my bloodstream, making my fingers tremble.