Page 17 of Cruising with You (Swenson Sweethearts)

My mouth spreads into a smile before I realize how creepy I must look staring at her while she sleeps.

With a quick shake of my head to snap myself out of whatever the hell I’m feeling, I scan her room again.

Her outfit from yesterday is still on the floor, so I fold it before setting it carefully on her closed suitcase, then I plug in her cell phone to let it charge in case she needs it when she wakes up.

Satisfied that the main living space is relatively in order, I head to the bathroom.

A white, unused hand towel hangs on the hook near the mirror, so I wet it, then wipe down the sink and toilet the best that I can without any actual disinfectant. I shrug while inspecting my handiwork.

It’ll have to do.

Once I’m finished, I toss the used towel beneath the sink and wash my hands with soap while popping my head out of the bathroom door to make sure Nora is still resting. As if she can feel my gaze, she opens her heavy lids and looks over at me but doesn’t say a word.

“How’d you sleep?” My gritty voice breaks the silence while I dry my hands.

“Better, actually. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“And I beg to differ. Did you clean?”

I shrug. “Not really. Just a little here and there.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes before burying her face in her hands.

Walking back to the bed, I sit on the side and push aside some of her hair in hopes of getting a better glimpse of her. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

She keeps her face buried as she answers, “Because I feel like I conned you into helping me or something. If I hadn’t given you that stupid pin, you wouldn’t feel obligated to be here.

” I hear the sniffle before I see any evidence that she’s crying, but I know her well enough to put two and two together.

“Baaabe,” I drag out the word then pull her back into my chest. “Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” she cries with another sniffle.

Chuckling, I admit, “Want to know something funny?”

She nods against me, but I can still feel the moisture from her tears sinking into my T-shirt.

“I always hated criers.” I laugh a little harder. “I thought they were doing it just to get attention and shit.”

“I’m not––”

“I know. And that’s why it’s so funny.” Rubbing my hand against her threadbare T-shirt that swallows her whole, I continue. “You’re one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met, and I kind of love that about you.”

She freezes when she recognizes the four-letter word, but what’s really weird is that I don’t rush to correct myself.

Besides, I didn’t say I loved her. I said I loved something about her.

There’s a difference. But even as I justify my comment, a tiny voice in the back of my head still argues, Yeah, but you’ve never said it in that context to a girl you barely know, either.

And I don’t regret it in the slightest.

“Well…,” she mutters, her voice trailing off. “I’m, uh…I’m glad that you can still find me appealing after seeing me like this.”

“Like what? Vulnerable? Sick? A hobo?”

Smacking me against my chest, she scowls up at me. “Hey! That’s not very nice!”

“I’m kidding. And I definitely still find you appealing. So much so, that if I weren’t afraid that you might be contagious, I might even prove it to you.”

“I’m sure you’d love that,” she teases. “Always a sucker for brownie batter, right, Gage?”

I know she’s joking, but it doesn’t take away the sting of truth.

“Who doesn’t love brownie batter,” I mutter sarcastically.

Sensing my deflated attitude, she adds, “Exactly. I know what the deal is. I know what I agreed to, so don’t worry about me catching feelings or anything.”

That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? I think I’m starting to.

I shift on the mattress to get a little more comfortable but don’t respond.

“I don’t think it’s the flu,” she mentions as the silence grows more uncomfortable around us. “I’m feeling a lot better after finally getting some sleep, and I think I got all the bad brownie out of me last night. I’ll probably be right as rain after a shower.”

“A shower is a good idea. Do you feel good enough to try to eat something too? See if you can keep it down?”

Stomach rumbling, she smiles. “Yeah. Food actually sounds really good now.”

The banana is still resting on the nightstand, so I grab it and offer it to her. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

When she catches me staring at her mouth as she wraps her lips around it, I tear my gaze away.

“So uh…brownies, eh?”

She groans. “Don’t remind me.”

“When did you get brownies, anyway?”

“I, uh…after the public therapy session, I hunted down Gem, and we had a little chat. There was a dessert buffet, so I grabbed some on my way out. Who knew they would’ve been so lethal, right?”

“One little brownie knocked you on your ass?”

She takes another giant bite of banana while shifting her gaze from me to the rest of the room, then back at me like she can’t decide where to look.

“Technically, it was like”––she does the math in her head––“four.”

I chuckle. “Four. Good to know. Do you mind if I ask what you and Gem talked about?”

With a one-shouldered shrug, an uncomfortable Nora swallows the lump of fruit. “Just that she owes me for making us go through that mess.”

“I’m actually kind of glad we got conned into that,” I admit, surprising both of us.

Her eyes widen before she sets the banana peel on the nightstand. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I replay a few of the highlights in my head before her warm touch on my forearm brings me back to the present. “Although I’m a little offended you felt the need to run in the opposite direction as soon as it was over.”

“I’m sorry. My emotions were pretty much overflowing, and I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea or anything. Like I said, I know what you signed up for, and I don’t want you to think I was trying to do a bait and switch.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that, Nora.”

She scans my face before nodding in relief. “Okay, good. I would hate for you to think that I’d try to trick a guy into dating me for real or anything.”

“I trust you. Besides, Cancers aren’t known for being sneaky,” I quip.

“Is that right?”

Shrugging, I admit, “I actually have no idea. Are they?”

She laughs. “I have no idea, either. I’m still reeling from the fact that you just admitted you were glad Gem conned us into participating in the workshop. You were a great sport for opening up and everything, but….”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, so I do it for her. “But it’s not like I want anything other than brownie batter, so why waste my time looking into my past in hopes of creating a real relationship in my future?”

Her button nose scrunches up in shame, but she doesn’t deny the truth. That’s exactly what she’s wondering. Then again, I’ve been asking myself the same question ever since last night, and I haven’t been able to pinpoint an answer, so I don’t blame her for being curious.

“I think it was good to analyze my history from a different perspective,” I admit.

“It also made me really think about what I want in life, and then with you winding up sick…. I dunno. I think it might be nice to have someone to rely on. That being said, I still think brownie batter is pretty satisfying, and sometimes, you have to sneak a taste before cracking some eggs with a stranger.”

She laughs. “Cracking some eggs?”

“I meant the emotional stuff,” I clarify with a grin.

“I know what you meant. And I agree. I’m always drowning in my emotions. I wish I could turn them off every once in a while instead of worrying about what comes next or how it makes me feel. I wish I could just…live in the moment for once, ya know?”

“Having emotions isn’t a bad thing.”

“It can be if you think you’ve signed up for no strings attached, but your emotions seem to sneak past your defenses, anyway,” she challenges.

“Dr. Lorringer was right. I’m such an emotional person that I can’t disconnect and go for the lust alone, ya know?

So instead, I inadvertently toss a whole egg into the batter without cracking it during the big ‘o’, which ruins the brownie batter experience because a bunch of shells get thrown into the mix no matter how hard I try to keep them out of it.

Then I’m left wondering why it tasted like crap.

” My heart is pounding, but I don’t interrupt her, so she continues.

“Just like how she helped you look at your own experience from a different perspective, she helped me realize that I can’t not be all in.

But I’m also terrified to open up to someone which leaves me”––she laughs, and the sound is enough to lighten the mood––“very sexually frustrated.”

Reaching forward, I brush aside a few stray hairs that were clinging to her forehead.

“Want to know a secret?” I whisper.

“What’s that?”

“I think you’ve poked a few holes in my shell too.

I would give anything to scratch that itch for you, but I think you’re right.

It’s not just watered-down batter with us.

I think a little egg white has slipped in too.

Don’t get me wrong,” I add after a soft gasp escapes her.

“I’m not saying we should add the yolk or bake the brownies or anything.

I’m just saying that I like you, Nora. And if we decided to sneak a little batter, I think it would taste pretty good. ”

“You think?”

I sit down beside her. “I know. Also, don’t ever tell a guy you’re sexually frustrated unless you feel like torturing him.”

With a coy smile, she tosses one of her toned legs over my waist. “So if I did this, would that be considered torture as well?”

My fingers dig into her bare thighs before she rolls her hips against me.

“Careful,” I warn her, looking into her heated expression.

She doesn’t listen. Her hair falls over one shoulder as she leans a little closer, then runs her hands across my lower abs. Flexing them, I hold my breath and wait to see what her next move is. There’s something sexy about a girl taking control. Of her life. Of her emotions. Of her lust. All of it.