For The One(33)

“It was helping.” In some ways. But making it more difficult in others.

“Well, you almost made it to the first intermission. That’s good.” She pauses, her face growing a shade of pink. “It’s, uh, it’s a good thing you’re strong, so you could just pick me up and go like that.” She licks her lips and looks up into my face. My eyes fly to the nearest door and I start walking toward it.

“I wouldn’t have to be very strong in order to carry you. You can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.”

“Women don’t like to discuss their weight.”

“Yes, I remember hearing that, but I don’t understand it.”

“Women are complicated, Wil. Like you shouldn’t talk about how we look in our jeans, either.”

My eyes shift to her legs, noticing how her jeans hug her feminine thighs. She looks really good in them. Should I not say that? She did warn me.

Her closeness, the feel of her body pressed against my chest, the smell of her and the tight sweater hugging the curves of her breasts…none of those are helping my current state of arousal. Not in the least.

Now that we are outside the glass doors, it’s safe to let her go. I release her legs and she lands on her feet with a thump.

“Oh!” she exclaims and grabs onto my arm to steady herself. Not expecting her hold, I tense and jerk my arm away. I pull her with me and she almost falls before I catch her.

“You startled me,” I tell her.

She huffs out a breath. “Well, you startled me first! You don’t just scoop someone up in the middle of a crowd and then plop them unceremoniously in the parking lot without a word.”

“I spoke words. More than one.”

She throws her hands up. “I can’t even. I can’t!”

“You can’t what?”

Her fists tighten at her sides and she’s talking through her teeth now. “You’re pissing me off.”

I blink and pull away from her. “Oh.”

She folds her arms across her chest, and all I can think about is how the material across her breasts tightens and I can see every curve. I’m obsessed with imagining what they look like underneath her shirt. It looks like she has very pretty breasts. As pretty as the rest of her. “Well…should I not be pissed off?”

I think about that question for a minute, but am startled when she hits me on the arm.

“Stop staring at my boobs!”

I rip my gaze away from that perfect chest.

Then she says it. That phrase I hate more than anything else. “Look me in the eyes, Wil.”

My stomach drops and I feel nauseous. I hate it when people tell me that. I hate it more than when they call me retard or Rain Man or whatever else I’ve been called. Because the people who say this to me are not my enemies. They are people I care about—my friends, even my family. I swallow and stuff my hands in my pockets, but I’m still staring at the ground.

“Look at me!” she repeats.

I take a deep breath, and then, because I don’t trust my voice, I shake my head, balling my fists inside my pockets.





Chapter 7

Jenna

I wasn’t quite sure what was happening. It had started out as a fairly enjoyable trip to a hockey game, but things had deteriorated quickly. Now William and I were hashing it out in the parking lot of the Honda Center, getting quizzical looks from security personnel.

“Look up, Wil.”

Instead, he rubbed his hands down the sides of his thighs, then turned on his heel and walked away.

Just like that. At full speed. Like he didn’t even want or expect me to keep up.

I had to run to catch up to him, and by that time we were on a narrow sidewalk along a busy avenue. I stuck to his heels as we crossed the river and cut over into the theater parking lot.

He sped up once we reached the lot as if avoiding the possibility of me walking next to him. Heaven forbid that happen. “William Drake. Stop right now!”

He stopped but didn’t turn around.

I caught up with him and moved into his line of sight. “Well?” I said.

“Well, what?”

“What the hell was that? Why did you storm off?”

“Because I didn’t want to say anything rude, and you made me angry.”

“Because I asked you to look me in the eye?”

“Yes.”

“Well, maybe I’m just tired of you looking everywhere but my eyes.”

He blinked. “It’s difficult.”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “Because when I’m looking in your eyes, I’m too distracted to hear what you are saying. It’s intense.”

“What’s intense? I mean, I know I’m beautiful, but…” I joked in an effort to lighten the mood.