Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I offer her one of the pretty pink boxes. “I’m very good, actually. I came with this little thank you gift. You must have a sixth sense, because… me and Saint,” I point to our new neighbor’s door. “Really hit it off.”
She opens the door more widely, revealing her pink home full of old-timey pictures on each wall. “Oh that’s wonderful! I had a sense about that one,” she says with pride and accepts my offering “But you didn’t have to bring me anything, honey.”
“No, I really did. I’ve not been feeling great lately, and a new friend might be exactly what I need, so thank you.”
Friend. More like man to climb like a tree.
“That is so sweet! I will tell my grandson all about it,” she says, but just as she retreats into her flat, her cat makes a dash into the hallway.
I block him with my foot at the last moment, and the fluffball makes an unhappy hiss, but then Mrs. Treville manages to scoop him up with one hand.
“Maybe he wants to meet Saint too. He’s a very good cook, apparently.”
Mrs. Treville shakes her head. “He’s got enough food at home, but the grass is always greener on the other side.”
We say our goodbyes, and I whip up my phone as soon as I’m on my own again. I know it’s stereotypically lesbians whose dates last seventy-two hours, but I just can’t get enough of Saint and I’ll use any excuse to be around him. I’ve also made up my mind. I will challenge myself to enter his home.
[Are you working?] I text Saint.
I only have to wait a moment for his response. [Just started whipping up lunch. You?]
I decide to surprise him and knock on the door with a stupid grin on my face. It’s not like me to smile this much, but he does that to me. Ants crawl up my back when I hear footsteps on the other side, and then he’s there, greeting me with a wide smile. “Rowan! Come on—” He stalls, mid-way through the gesture meant to invite me. He must have remembered what I told him yesterday, and I want to kiss away the torn expression passing through his face.
I take a deep breath and show off the boxes with cake. “I got us gingerbread cheesecake, and… if you’re ready to bear with my anxiety, I’d like to try coming in. Unless it’s a bad time?”
Saint blinks, taken aback, but just as my inadequacy smashes into me with the might of a thousand suns, he opens the door wide and steps aside, revealing a bare corridor and three doors. “Of course! I didn’t know you’d want to, that’s all.”
I look at him with the smile frozen to my lips, but now that reality slams into me, my mind screams Danger! Danger! at being alone with a stranger—No. Saint isn’t a stranger. He’s the first man who kissed me. The first man with whom I had sex. The first man I went on a date with, and he is amazing.
“Smells nice, what are you cooking?” I ask to distract him from the fact that my feet refused to move inside right away.
“Oh, I just put the pie in the oven. It’s roasted butternut squash and feta. And, I was about to make a salad to go with it,” he says, gesturing inside. He grabs my trembling hand in a gesture so reassuring my shoulders sag a bit.
There’s nothing to be afraid of.
Saint is handsome, funny, oh so sexy, and cooks. I need to get my shit together.
“It’s like with the stairs,” I say softly, squeezing his hand. He’s so patient with me I could cry. “I didn’t actually fall. I was pushed. During a house invasion. It’s like my body remembers.” There’s a relief to telling someone about it, and I step inside with one foot.
I freeze when Saint leans in to hug me, but the moment his warm arms settle around me, the anxiety I’ve lived with for so long seems more bearable. Even his scent is soothing.
“I’m so sorry.”
Maybe it’s his thing to be the white knight to broken bugs like me. I don’t have to feel guilty about him saving me if it gives him pleasure, so I hug him back with a sigh.
“I should say it’s okay, but it’s not. I still have nightmares about it and triple-check the locks in my house. You… you’re making it easier though.” I kiss his shoulder, and when I glance down, I see that I didn’t even notice when both my feet landed beyond the threshold of his home.
Maybe I can do this if someone who actually gives a shit about me holds me by the hand?
“We could… eat in the corridor, with the door open. So you know it’s safe,” Saint proposes, pulling back to look at my face. He’s so handsome yet, unlike many beautiful people, doesn’t act like the whole world is beneath him.