The Firefly Effect (21 page)

“Well…yeah, I’m sure we have lots of things in common.”

“How about paintball? Do you enjoy games like that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never played paintball before.” Getting shot at with hard dye capsules does not sound like my idea of fun.

“No?” He looks up at me, surprised. “We should do that sometime then.”

“Maybe,” I smile. I’m making no promises here.

His cobalt eyes narrow in disapproval. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Try to humor me. Don’t do that. I can tell when a person is being disingenuous. If you don’t want to go out with me, just say so.”

What the hell…?
I can feel my cheeks growing warm as blood rushes to my face. What’s crawled up his butt all of a sudden? How did we go from having a fairly normal conversation to this?

“I wasn’t trying to humor you! It’s just that I have a lot going on, what with school and my job and studying and all that. I don’t have a lot of spare time, you know? And I don’t want to commit to something if I can’t follow through.”

He considers my explanation for a moment before grudgingly admitting, “Being goal-oriented could be construed as an admirable quality, I suppose.”

“Jeez,” I mutter, chewing on the end of my straw. “Are you always so moody?”

“Moody?” Cocking his head, he gives me a genuinely puzzled look.

“Yes, moody. You didn’t have to jump down my throat.”

“I didn’t jump down your throat.”

“Uh,
yeah
, you kinda did.”

“Really?” He still seems perplexed, which I find a little disconcerting. “Well then. I apologize if you read into my observation that way.”

I can’t help but notice that he isn’t apologizing for what he said, but for the ostensibly mistaken way it was interpreted. He’s putting it off on
me
. As if
I’m
the one who did something wrong.

Feeling suddenly uneasy, I start to wonder how I can cut this impromptu date short without being too obvious. “Don’t worry about it. Um…but you know, speaking of my busy schedule, I really do have a lot of work I should be–”

“Would you consider having sex with me?”

I lean back in my seat so fast I come close to knocking the coffee over in my lap. I’m pretty sure right about now my eyes are popping out of my head like a cartoon character’s. Did he seriously just say what I think he said? Oh, no – no freaking way. I mean, I’ve been propositioned before but never quite like this!

“Come again?”

Ignoring my shock, he impassively continues, “I just thought, since I am still a virgin, that it would be a simpatico gesture on your part. My belief has always been that a girlfriend’s obligation is to be attentive to the needs of her patron.”

Patron?

Girlfriend?

Good God, this is bordering on surreal. If I didn’t know better I’d think there was a camera hidden somewhere in here, setting me up for a prank to be posted on YouTube later. It’s beginning to become very clear to me why nobody ever talks to this guy.

I am careful to keep my voice mild and nonconfrontational so I don’t unwittingly provoke him again. “Luka. Don’t take this the wrong way, but…we went out once. You do realize that doesn’t make me your girlfriend. I mean, you know that. Right?”

He stares vacantly at me for a long while, long enough that I start wondering what could possibly be going on in his head. Does he even hear the things that come out of his mouth? How can he not comprehend how bizarre this is?

When he speaks, his expression remains deadpan and the words are slow and deliberate. “Yes. I understand. It would be inappropriate for this relationship to progress too quickly. Why don’t we agree to take it at a somewhat slower pace for now? For the sake of propriety. We have our integrity to consider. Thank you for bringing that to my attention.”

I am at a loss here. I’ve never dealt with anyone like this before. Never had anyone full-on freak me out the way he has. I don’t want to argue with him, don’t want to get into some wicked altercation in the middle of the bistro. All I want right now is to extricate myself from this awkward situation without making things worse. So I say the first thing that comes to mind, hoping simply to appease him until I can get the hell away from here and go back to my room in the residence hall.

“Slow. Yeah. That’s it. We’ll take things really,
really
slow.”

~ Chapter Eighteen ~

I screwed up.

It should have been evident that pushing Melanie’s boundaries wasn’t going to win me any points with her. Badgering her was a stupid move. Why couldn’t I just shut up while I was ahead? Clearly she needs time, and here I am going about it all back-asswards, trying to rush things that shouldn’t be rushed.

I can’t force my way past the bars surrounding her heart. It will never work that way. She’ll have to trust me enough to unlock them herself. And she will – she’ll open up to me in her own time if I just have a little patience.

Unfortunately, I’ve never been a patient man.

I wonder who it is that hurt her. What he did. Whether she still cares about him.

I don’t even know the guy, and I fucking hate him.

She doesn’t come out of that room for the rest of the day, which doesn’t really surprise me. I make it a point not to disturb her. Instead I pull a roast out of the freezer and stick it in the oven with some potatoes to slow cook for dinner, provided the power doesn’t go out before it gets done. Then I spend the rest of the afternoon lazing on the sofa watching Netflix and listening to the wind and the rain.

Sometime around dusk, during a lull in the storm, I hear the water running and know that she’s taking a shower. I head into the kitchen to throw together a salad, and I’m just finishing up when she comes padding in. Barefoot with her cute little toes painted pink, dressed in a gray tank top and something that resembles boxer shorts, she looks as soft and cuddly as a kitten.

I’m hoping she’ll keep the claws in tonight.

“You made dinner?” She sounds surprised, as if chopping up a few veggies and shoving a hunk of meat in the oven is a complicated endeavor.

“I know how to cook.” Picking up a fork, I poke at the roast that’s cooling on the stovetop. It isn’t as tender as I would have liked. “Sort of.”

She hesitates for a few seconds before coming over and putting her arms around me. I hug her close and inhale the combined scents of sultry jasmine and vanilla. For one crazy moment I seriously consider hoisting her ass up on the counter and putting it to her in the midst of romaine lettuce stalks, cucumber peels and wet tomato seeds.

Yeah, that thought just crossed my mind. That’s what she does to me.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs softly. “About earlier.”

“It’s already forgotten.” I tuck a lock of damp hair behind her ear before kissing her cheek. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving. It smells really good.”

“So do you.” Good enough to eat, which has my oversexed imagination running off in a dozen different directions. Trying to distract myself, I ask, “Did you get a lot written?”

“Some, yes. I finished up a chapter and got halfway through the next one.”

“Will you let me read it?”

“You want to read my manuscript?” Again, she sounds surprised.

“If you wouldn’t mind. You probably won’t believe this, but I’ve read all your books. As a matter of fact, I think I have a couple of them here.”

“Those are yours? I figured they must be Leah’s.”

I almost choke on a laugh. “Have you
met
my sister? I don’t think she reads anything that isn’t illustrated with cartoon animals.”

She looks up at me anxiously. “So what did you think? Of my books. And be honest. Don’t sugarcoat it just to spare my feelings.”

“I think…”
I think I bought them only to remind me of you. I think I started reading them only to gain insight into the way your mind works.
“I think that Kristine Lane is one of the most talented writers I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading.” I’m not lying. Her books were damn good. I’m not even into murder mysteries, but these actually drew me in and held my interest.

“You never used to like reading. Remember when you stole my book report on
Great Expectations
? You said you had better things to do, and since I already read it anyway there was no point in both of us wasting our time.”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“You called Pip a fuckmuppet,” she recalls.

“He was. And technically, I didn’t steal your book report. I only borrowed it long enough to copy the key points.” Sliding one hand underneath the hem of her shirt, I caress the small of her back lightly. “I thought I could slip it back into your locker without you finding out.”

“You know, I never did figure out how you got into my locker in the first place.”

“Stephanie gave me the combination.”

“She did not!”

“You’re right, she didn’t,” I confess with a chuckle. “Actually I just watched over your shoulder until I had it figured out.”

“Oh, I should have known. Creeper’s gonna creep. Did I ever thank you for the dead squirrel you left in there?”

“No. Beyond throwing a textbook at my head, I don’t believe you ever did.”

“Good!” She gives me a playful shove.

Reluctantly I release her, and we busy ourselves pouring glasses of iced tea and dishing up our plates. The roast is a little dry, but I’ve made worse. Melanie actually compliments my cooking. I’m pretty sure it’s just to be polite. She does wolf down a sizeable portion though, even if she does smother it in Heinz 57.

“I checked the weather forecast online,” she announces while we’re eating. “We’re supposed to get six to eight inches of rain through tonight and tomorrow.”

“I know, I’ve been getting nonstop texts with all the warnings. If this keeps up I might be swimming my way back home.”

“Is there any specific date you have to be back?”

“Not really, but I should probably get back as soon as possible. I’m sure Ethan’s got his hands full.” I’ve always loved Tennessee – that’s the reason I decided to make it my home – but right now the thought of leaving Florida is making my stomach clench.

No. Not leaving Florida. Leaving Melanie.

“Who’s Ethan?” she wants to know.

“Dr. Stewart. We merged our practices last year.”

“Oh. Wow, so if there’s two of you, you must stay busy.”

“Yeah, well…Ethan specializes in equine medicine and livestock while I’m a small animal practitioner. He treats farm animals; I stick to domestic pets.”

She says nothing, but a trace of a smile flits across her lips.

“You find that funny?”

“Not really. I was just picturing you with an armful of puppies and kittens. It’s cute.”

“Ah! So we’ve established that you think I’m cute.”

“Meh,” she shrugs, her grin widening. “You’ll do.”

“Any port in a storm, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No. I think what you
meant
to say was that Shane Becker is the sexiest, most irresistible piece of man meat you’ve ever come across. Literally.”

“Is that what you like to tell yourself when you’re spanking the monkey?” she giggles.

“Would you like to find out?”

“Hm. You know, I might be safer pleading the fifth on that one.”

Shrugging, I slide my chair back and leisurely stand up. “Safer isn’t always better, honey buns. And on that note, I believe I’ll go get a shower while I still can. Then I say we find some gory, blood-and-guts horror movie and scare ourselves silly.”

“You’re silly enough already.”

“You’re not silly enough.” I ruffle her hair as I pass by. “Since I cooked dinner, you can do the dishes.”

“Um…these are paper plates, genius.”

“Then it shouldn’t take you long, should it?”