Read Online Shattered Perfection by Heather Guimond - Free Book Online

corner of my eye.  He was lounging against the side of the elevator and laughing with Pete and Laurel about something Laurel just said.  I had no idea what, since I was having my own mini-Fukushima over in my corner of the elevator.  He seemed relaxed and not the slightest bit perturbed or even excited.  There was no evidence of elevated pulse, nor tell-tale sheen of perspiration on his brow.  I began to feel insulted.  Shouldn’t he have at least been marginally excited about having this time alone with me?  Did he think I was a sure thing?  I huffed indignantly.  If that’s what he was thinking, he could just go ahead and think again.  I crossed my arms and thrust out a hip.  I’d show him easy.
    Somewhere in the deeper recesses of my mind, I realized that I was being irrational, and this was probably the result of my sudden case of nerves, but the psycho that had taken up residence in my frontal lobe was in control and she was taking no prisoners. 
    Pete and Laurel exited on a lower floor than ours, since they had one of the regular rooms.  The elevator was then empty except for me and Vance, who smiled at me guilelessly.  Of course, in my state of mind, I interpreted it as a leer and moved to the other side of small cab and glared at him.  His face fell into a look of confusion.
      “Is something wrong, Mimi?” he asked.
    “No.  Why would you think anything is wrong?”  I responded airily.
    “Um, maybe because you scurried to the other side of the elevator like I had some kind of communicable disease and are looking at me like I just farted in a room full of your relatives?”
    My lips twisted in spite of my fit of madness.  I tried to hold onto it, keeping my arms tightly crossed in front of me and back pressed to the wall, but my temper crumbled in the face of his furrowed brow and the look of genuine concern on his face.
    I sighed.  “I was just thinking about our sleeping arrangements.”
    “And the idea of sharing a bed with me makes you think violent thoughts, if your body language is any indication,” he surmised as the doors opened to our floor.    
    We made our way to our room silently.  He opened the door for me and I strolled in unencumbered as Vance was carrying both our bags.  I looked around at the elegantly appointed suite, before turning back to him, feeling sheepish.  I knew my behavior wasn’t making any sense, and I was beginning to feel embarrassed, but I didn’t know how to explain my temporary break with reality.
    Vance dropped our bags by the door and moved to the sofa.  He fell down into it, spreading his arms across the back. 
    “Why don’t you sit down and explain to me what is going on, Mimi?”
    I sat down in the chair across from him and folded my hands into my lap.  I unclasped them, then clasped them again.  I ran a hand over my hair, before resting an elbow in my lap and covering my mouth with my hand.  He looked at me expectantly, but didn’t rush me, as if we had all the time in the world for me to spit out whatever was screwing with my head.
    “I’m sorry.  I just had a little bit of a freak-out moment.  I’m not really sure why.  It just dawned on me that I never really considered the implications of us sharing a room, and there only being one bed and all, and…,” I realized I’d started to ramble, and paused, taking a deep breath.
    “And you started thinking I had made certain assumptions about where our relationship was headed,” he offered.
    “Well, yes.  I suppose so.  It kind of offended me,” I admitted.
    “I see.”  He nodded, considering my words carefully as he crossed his arms behind his head.
    “I know I was being silly.  You’ve been nothing but great.  I don’t know what got into me,” I began to stammer.  I stopped, blowing out a big breath. I decided ‘Screw it,’ and to be completely open with him.  The worst thing that could happen would be that he thought I was totally mental, which probably