Frayed (Connections, #4)(56)

“No, that’s not it at all. It’s just . . .” She pauses.

The light turns and I drop my hand. “Just what?” I ask, twisting to see her.

Her eyes widen like saucers. “You have to promise not to laugh.”

I want to promise, I really do, but the face she made makes a memory flash through my mind. The first time we talked in the library at college and she dropped the Kama Sutra book on the floor.

Her lips purse and her eyes narrow on me. “I just asked you not to laugh.”

“You haven’t even told me anything,” I say, holding my stomach to control my own laughter. It’s so strange how she can lift my mood so quickly.

“I know, so why are you already laughing?” she scoffs.

“You made a face that reminded me of the first time I saw you in the library when you were randomly shuffling through books and you dropped that book on the floor.”

Her gaze softens. “You remember that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Pulling up in front of her nicely kept Spanish-style apartment complex, I turn the engine off. Twisting toward her, I run my fingers down the bare skin of her arm and again she jumps. All remnants of laughter dissolve as I turn toward her in the dark of the night. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing really. I just feel a little sunburned.”

I flick the dome light on in the car. Fuck me, she’s the color of a lobster. “A little! Have you put anything on it?”

“No, not yet. Honestly, I didn’t start to feel it until I got to the party.”

“What kind of sunblock was that you put on?”

“Actually I didn’t have much sunblock left, so I poured a little moisturizer in the bottle. It said it had SPF in it.”

I shake my head at her in disbelief. “Come on, let’s go put something cool on it.”

I’m careful to only touch where her clothing is, but even then I see her body tighten in discomfort. She leads me up the stairs and to the door of her apartment that from the outside I know so well. When she opens it and walks through, I catch sight for the first time of where she lives. Candles are scattered all around, a bottle of sparkling water with two glasses sits on her coffee table, and her bikini is thrown on the back of her sofa. I try to ignore the intimate setting that she has set and swivel my gaze over the rest of the room. There isn’t much furniture—the sofa, the coffee table, a television, and a small stereo unit on the floor. I look over toward the kitchen—a few barstools, but no table under the light in the corner. I know she’s lived here for a while, but it looks as if she just moved in.

“This is really nice,” I say, closing the door behind me.

“Thanks, I’m not done with it yet, but it’s getting there.”

I walk up behind her. “It looks like you were expecting company.”

She tosses her keys and twists her head back to rest on my shoulder. “Well, someone who wasn’t invited was making a nuisance of himself.”

“Is this the way you greet all nuisances who invite themselves over?” I bend down to kiss her lips and rest my hands on her shoulders.

“Ouch,” she exclaims loudly.

I glance around, looking for a light switch, and flick it on. “Turn around, let me see you.”

“I’m fine,” she says, kicking her heels off.

I circle over to her and take a look. “You have blisters on your lips.”

She slaps her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God, did you give me herpes?”

I should be insulted, but instead I’m laughing so hard a few tears drip from my eyes.

“It’s not funny,” she says, running down the hall. “Oh God, they’re huge.”

I walk down the hallway and see her looking in the bathroom mirror. “Let me see.”

She turns toward me.

“You don’t just have a little sunburn, you might have sun poisoning.”

“Do you think so?”

“Do I think I didn’t give you herpes? Yes.”

“I know you didn’t,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m talking about sun poisoning.”

I mimic her and roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m pretty sure. I’ve taken care of sun poisoning a few times before. You need to take some aspirin, put some cold compresses over those blisters, and drink a lot of water. So let’s start with where I’ll find the aspirin.”

“I have Midol. Will that work?”

I laugh. “No, but I’ll run out to the store and pick some up along with some aloe because I’m going to guess you don’t have that either.”

She shakes her head no and turns back toward the mirror.

“Don’t keep touching them,” I yell as I walk into the kitchen and open the refrigerator, looking for a bottle of spring water. It’s completely empty except for a large bag of lemons. I close it and open a few cupboards until I find a glass. I fill it with water and when I turn she’s standing behind me. “Drink this. Get changed and put some cold washcloths over the blisters. I’ll be right back. Okay?”

She runs her hand down my chest. “Thank you.”

Our eyes lock and I grab her hand and kiss it. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I’m so sorry. I was really looking forward to tonight.”