When I got to the glass doors of the building, I noticed the light above the doors was out. I’d have to tell my mom so she could let the building manager know, if someone hadn’t already. I punched in the code, using the screen light from my cell phone to illuminate the keypad and see what the heck I was doing.
I heard a scuffle in the darkness, along the side of the building a few feet away. Thinking I was about to be jumped or mugged, I braced myself.
Until I heard, “What do you want to talk about, Caleb?”
My relief was short-lived as I realize how unsafe she’d been. “What are you doing out here by yourself, Gianna? Someone could’ve attacked you.”
I heard her step closer, enough to make out her form. “I have mace.”
“And if there were two of them?”
“I also have a knee that shoots up quickly.”
At my exasperated sound, she was silent.
Reaching out to grab her waist, I touched her for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. “Come inside with me.”
I sensed her hesitation for a moment, but she went in when I held the door open for her. Once we were in the apartment, I left her in the living room to check my mom’s room. The door was open and her bed was empty. She must’ve been out of town or at a friend’s house. Thank god, now we’d have privacy.
When I returned to the living room, Gianna was sitting on the couch, gazing across the room at my mom’s newest painting. As I neared, she glanced up warily. Feeling elated to be close to her again, I sat down on the middle cushion, right next to her. She popped up immediately to move to the armchair across from me.
“What did you want to talk about, Caleb?” she repeated.
“Us.”
She shot me a patronizing look. “There is no us anymore, Caleb. You made sure of that.”
I was dying to inform her that Julie, her mother, was the one to make sure of it. But, it was too soon. I still had no plan to fight her mom. Instead, I said, “You look beautiful, Gianna.”
She rolled her beautiful blue eyes. Her sarcasm didn’t bother me. I was just so freaking happy to be in her presence. “So I’ve been told. Still not so sure it’s a blessing.”
“You’re not just beautiful on the outside, Gianna.”
I’d startled her. She looked like she was fighting tears. “Stop it, Caleb. I don’t want to hear those kinds of things from you.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, really not wanting her to cry. “Let’s talk about you then.”
She swallowed, regaining her composure. “What about me?” Her hands were clasped in her lap and I wanted so badly to take them in mine.
“First off, why did you get together with Seth less than a day after we broke up?”
“It’s none of your business, Caleb. It has nothing to do with you anymore.”
If I wanted to get anything out of her, I was going to have to be honest. “It hurt me, Gianna.”
She glanced away, now looking at the painting over my head. “He’s . . . safe.”
Okay, I could understand that, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t eating at me. “I see.” I knew I shouldn’t ask my next question. If she answered a certain way, I’d lose my shit. But I had to ask, “Are you having sex him?”
“God, Caleb,” she breathed out in shock. “You shouldn’t blurt out stuff like that.”
“Are you?” I insisted.
Her eyes held mine. “No.”
“And Ian?”
I was beginning to piss her off, by the hard look in her eyes. “Right now, the answer is no.”
“Right now?” I asked in disbelief, picturing a bloody Ian again.
“What the hell do you care, Caleb?” Her voice was raised and I was doubly glad my mom wasn’t home. “Did you mark your territory and now you don’t want anyone else trespassing?”
“You belong to me, Gianna.”
Sitting back, she laughed. “I notice you didn’t say that I belong with you.”
“That too,” I replied hastily, wishing I could say so much more.
“You didn’t feel that way a few weeks ago when you practically ran out of my house.”
“I’ve felt that way since we first met, Gianna.”
“Felt what, Caleb? Ownership? Possessiveness? No thanks.” She stood up to leave. “I think we’ve chatted enough for a lifetime. It’s time for me to go home.”
As she passed me to get to the door, I dragged her down onto my lap.
“What are you doing, Caleb? Despite what you think, you don’t own me. You don’t have the right to manhandle me!” She fought the hold of my arms.
“No, I don’t think I own you, but I know I own your heart.”