Page 51 of The Deviation
“Because you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”
“Because you could have been a serial killer.”
He gives a short laugh. “For real, are you two obsessed with serial killers or something?”
I shrug. “We like horror movies.”
“Huh. Something else I didn’t know.” His brown eyes study me closely before he shakes his head. “It didn’t stop you fromwandering off into the dark with me. Where’s your sense of self-preservation?”
He’s joking, but his words trigger the memory of our first kiss. The one that ruined me for every man since. The one that still threatens my job because of my inability to let it, or him, go. I need to get him out of my apartment.
“Why are you here?” I ask, my voice betraying an annoyance that has more to do with me than him.
“Oh, um…” He goes over to our sorry excuse for a Christmas tree and nabs a wrapped box from underneath. “Merry Christmas,” he mutters, all but dumping it in my hands.
My mouth drops open. “You didn’t need to—”
“Don’t get too excited.” He’s doing that restless feet thing again and his hands are shoved into his back pockets. “It’s nothing. I saw it in the store and thought of you.” His gaze darts from the present to my face and back again. Plucking it from my hands, he puts it back under the tree. “You can’t open it until Christmas.”
My heart warms at his fumbling, which only feeds my irritation. “Thank you for the gift.”
He nods, his eyes averted. “I should go.”
He really should, before I… do something. Wrap his awkward self up in a giant hug? Slap him senseless for putting us in such a dangerous position? I don’t even know.
He walks to the door, and I steel myself for his departure. The knowledge he was here, in my home, may keep me up—raging and cursing and fucking my own hand—half the night.
“Oh,” he says, turning back to me, “one more thing—”
“No,” I snap, falling back a step.
He frowns. “No what?”
“No, you can’t have a fucking minute,” I growl at him. “Not here.”
His mouth opens, as if he’s going to argue the point, and I hold up a hand to stop him.
“You have to know one minute would turn into ten. Ten would turn into an hour. That hour would turn into me tying you to the goddamned bed.”
Wide eyes stare at me as he shakes his head. “Cal, I didn’t mean to—”
“But you always do.” There’s an accusation in my voice I don’t really mean, but I kind of do. How dare he show up like this? In my home. Mere metres from my bed. He knows what’s at stake. “That girl in there?” I jab a finger in the direction of Hannah’s room. “She’s relying on me to make everything better. I cannot fuck her life up because you like the way it hurts.”
Johnny inhales sharply, his back pressed against the door.
The ensuing silence echoes with the sting of my thoughtlessness. It’s been a long day. I’m tired and anxious. But that’s no excuse to take my frustration out on him. “Johnny—”
“I was going to say…” He tries for a casual tone, but the hurt is unmistakable. “Gavin and Charmaine are having a New Year’s Eve party. They’d like you and Hannah to be there.”
Regret slams into me. I close my eyes, my body sagging.
“You’ll get an official invite, but I hoped to lock you in, before you get a better offer.” He swallows hard, still not looking at me.
“I’ll try,” I tell him. “Hannah and I usually spend new year’s together, and she’s not much for parties.”
He nods. “That’s fair.”
My throat aches as I swallow. “I’m sorry.”