Page 29 of A Little Crush (The Little Things #6)
RORY
C rowther—who’s first name is Eric, by the way—is…great. He’s sweet, kind, attentive. And I feel absolutely no spark. I push the thought aside and give him a smile as we step out of the elevator onto my hotel room’s floor.
“Thanks again for the drink,” I tell him. “And for walking me back to my room.”
“Thanks for saying yes even though your friends cornered you,” he jokes.
I look down at my flats, trying not to die from embarrassment. “You felt it, too, huh?”
“Guess you could say that.”
We reach my room, and I fold my arms, unsure what to do or say now that we’re here.
Despite Tatum’s insistence that I’m a prude, I’ve tried dating.
Really, I have. But there’s a saying about how the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
So, I stopped. I got sick and tired of driving myself to insanity and threw in the towel on dating.
Tatum might hate me for it, but I’ve never regretted the decision .
Honestly, if we’re talking regrets, I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what I’m feeling as we stand awkwardly in front of the door to my room. Seriously. What now? His hand falls from my waist, and he rocks back on his heels, looking about as nervous as I am. The realization soothes my nerves.
He really has been sweet tonight and is nothing like the playboy persona he puts on for the media. Then again, neither is Dodger despite the copious rumors and nefarious footage the paparazzi have gathered over the years.
The comparison eases my anxiety even more, and I peek up at him. “You’re a good guy, Crowther. Thanks again.”
“Anytime,” he replies. “I had fun tonight.”
“Me, too.”
It’s mostly true.
“Can I…” He squeezes the back of his neck. “Can I have your number by chance?”
With a slow nod, I rattle off my number, and he types it into his phone, tucking his cell into his back pocket as I rub my lips together. Where do we go from here?
Hooking my thumb toward the closed door, I tell him, “I should…”
“Yeah, of course.” He shifts forward, and I swear he’s going to kiss me, but I turn my head, letting his lips skate across my cheek instead.
Nothing.
Zip.
Zero.
Zilch.
It only confirms what a small part of me already knows.
I’m still not over my stupid crush on the stupid man on the opposite side of this door, no matter how much time has passed.
It’s the only possible explanation as to why my knees aren’t buckling from Crowther’s charm. And he is charming. He is. And attractive. And kind. And…I really need to get my shit together.
If Crowther is disappointed I gave him the cheek, he doesn’t show it. Leaning back, he gives me another glimpse of his boyish grin as I stare back at him, feeling like a fish out of water.
“I’m sorry?—”
“Never apologize. For anything, but especially for making a guy work for it.” He winks.
I nod and tuck my hair behind my ear. “Sorry.”
With a low chuckle, “There it is again.”
I cringe. “Sorry.”
The same low chuckle greets me. “Seems you have a bad habit, Rory.”
My mouth lifts with a shy smile. “I’ll work on it.”
Rocking back on his heels, he leans closer and murmurs, “I think this is the part when you head inside.”
“Oh. Right.” I dig into my purse, pull out the keycard, and tap it against the door. Once it’s unlocked, I push the heavy door open, giving him a small wave. “See ya.”
“See you around, Rory.”
The lights are off. So is the television in the main room.
My gaze wanders to Jaxon’s bedroom door before I can stop myself.
It’s closed. As it should be. It’s not like I expected anything less.
I even explicitly told him not to wait up.
So why am I disappointed? Realizing disappointment is indeed the emotion twisting inside me, I tuck my room key back into my purse, head into my room, and close the door behind me.
If only I could do the same to my bleeding heart.
Instead, it seems the stupid thing is a glutton for punishment no matter what I do.
It’s annoying. I don’t like it. Honestly, I’m exhausted from it.
And so, instead of sleeping, I pull up the Google Drive Jaxon’s assistant sent me and begin sorting through nanny resumes until my eyelids droop and my exhaustion is so consuming, I can’t help but fall asleep.