suddenly, it was all I could think about. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, everywhere.
That was, until I actually thought about what that meant. Nate, the sexiest guy I’d ever kissed, made of hard muscle, touching my flab.
But there was something stronger, an undeniable need to be closer to him, that quickly covered that thought. I wanted him, even if it meant I had to keep the lights out and the covers pulled up. With the way he made me feel when he kissed me, I’d do pretty much anything to be closer to him.
“Don’t die on the street,” I managed between breaths. “Come upstairs.”
A low groan escaped his throat. “Dammit, Cat.”
“What? Stay.”
“I can’t.”
All the air rushed out of my body.
And then he said: “I mean, I don’t want to.”
Tears pricked at my eyes for the second time that night, threatening to spill out. “Right, yeah, I get it.” I dropped my hand from his, thinking for a moment that it was a shame that our hands fit so well together, that his chest felt so addictive pressing up against mine. It was a shame because I’d never be able to get it out of my head. “Well, still. Thanks.” I turned to go inside, lowering my gaze. I didn’t want him to see the hurt on my face, and just as importantly, I didn’t want to trip on that pesky flagstone on my way in and embarrass myself, or hurt my leg, even more.
His hand caught mine. “Cat, no. No, it’s not like that. I know what you’re thinking. That guy who dumped you? He’s an idiot.” He tugged my arm gently until I turned back around to face him. “There are very few things I would like more than sleeping with you right now. But I just…can’t.”
I wanted to believe his words were true, but at the same time I realized they made absolutely no sense. Either he wanted me, or he didn’t. The various pieces of the evening, beautiful and confusing and terrifying, swirled through my head and jumbled together in a mix I couldn’t sort out. I didn’t know what was up or down anymore.
The only thing I knew was that if I didn’t go inside—didn’t get away from this beautiful guy who claimed he wanted me but wouldn’t come in—I would throw my arms around his waist, drag him inside, and not give him a choice.
So I said the only thing I could think of. “Thank you.” Then I turned to go inside. He sighed deeply as I carefully made my way up the stairs. Just as I was jiggling my key in the lock, he finally spoke up. “Hey!” he called. “I don’t have your number!”
I looked down at him, with his muscled shoulders slumped and his face looking drawn and sad. “If you really want it, you’ll find it.” And then I went inside, shutting the door on him before he could confuse me even more.
I trudged into the bathroom, washed my face, and popped four extra-strength Tylenol. I stretched out on my bed and rolled my ankle, sucking in air at the nagging, dull pain that metal rods and screws made when they were forced to live next to bones.
Why the hell hadn’t I given Nate my number? I cursed myself over and over again. I hadn’t loved being Jake’s booty call, by any means, but I was finding out that it was kind of worse to offer to sleep with a guy and get turned down.
My life just kept getting worse and worse.
I just knew one thing for sure. I was definitely never going back to that art class.
Chapter 8
I woke up to a sharp knock on my door, and then Joey came bursting in.
“Cat, what the hell? Are you okay? Are you sick?” Her voice did the exact same thing as my mom’s when she was stressed—jump up at the end into a screech.
“You sound like a damn police siren, Joey.”
She laughed. “Well, so does your cell phone alarm, which has been going off for the last forty-five minutes.”
I rolled over and groaned, swiping at the touchscreen on my phone to silence it. “Oh my God. What time is it?”
“Time for you to get to your ten o’clock, if you want to. Seriously, what happened to
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