Until I Saw You(8)

“Chloe?” I ask, wondering if I misread the signs and she’s into women, or maybe both. I’m not sure how I feel about that. If I give a woman my cock, I don’t want to worry about if she’d rather have pussy.

“My cat,” she mumbles, yanking her arm out of my hold and starting to walk away again.

I find myself falling into step beside her. I’m grinning, thinking at least if she’s cuddling up on the couch with a pussy, this is one I can compete with.

“Tell me about Troy.”

“Why are you smiling like that?” she asks, and it’s only then I realize the grin is still on my face.

“I was realizing that if you’re in love with pussy at least it’s one I can compete with.”

“I don’t understand…” she says, her face confused, wrinkles on her forehead as she replays my words in her head. I’ve never been around a woman so easy to read, but with Jessie, I know exactly what’s going on with one look. That’s confirmed when she blushes and comprehension dawns on her—shining like a flashlight in the black of night.

“Oh,” she gasps and I’m pretty sure she couldn’t say anything else, because she opens her mouth, then closes it. Opens it again and snaps it shut yet again. The look on her face makes me… laugh. “You weren’t this annoying the first time we met,” she huffs.

“What was I?”

“I wouldn’t go all cocky. I doubt you could compete with Chloe. She’s special,” Jessie answers, completely ignoring my question.

“I’ll make a note,” I tell her.

We walk for a bit without talking. It’s not an awkward silence. It’s actually kind of enjoyable, but I smile when I hear her voice again. It has a tone that makes me feel… alive.

“Why are you here?” she asks and that’s when the laughter stops. I push my fingers through my hair, stop walking and she seems to catch the change in my mood and stops too. She stands there looking up at me and that venom inside of me that stays deep inside—hidden—begins swirling. I beat it down, but in the face of Jessie’s innocence, it’s harder. I should stay away from her. I’ve tried for three days, but she’s been there… on my mind… teasing me… tempting me. I should walk away. I need to. Jessie doesn’t need someone like me in her life. I’m not fit to touch her. I don’t know a fuck of a lot, but I know she deserves better than an ex-junkie. I’m clean. I’ve been clean for years, but that doesn’t erase my past…or what drove me to use the drugs.

“Allen?” she asks softly, her voice changing. That’s when I realize I am staring at her, but not really seeing her.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I tell her honestly.

“But you are,” she whispers.

“I shouldn’t be,” I repeat again.

Jessie reaches up and the tips of her fingers drag through my beard. The touch is gentle, but it’s the look in her eyes that I actually feel. It’s almost physical and it seeps into the darkest parts of me, calming the darkness like nothing else has.

“Come upstairs and have coffee with me. We’ll talk,” she says. I look beyond her to the building in front of us and the purple painted door on the side. I want to say no.

I don’t.

“Okay,” I tell her, knowing better, but unable to stop myself.





7





Jessie





“You shouldn’t invite strangers into your home,” Allen murmurs as we make it to the top of the stairs and I unlock the door to my apartment.

“I didn’t. I invited you,” I answer with a shrug, opening the door and walking in. I stand there holding the door open as Allen looks in, clearly unsure about coming inside.

“You don’t know me. I could be a rapist or a murderer.”

“Fair enough. Have you murdered anyone?”

“No one that didn’t deserve it,” he answers and his face looks extremely solemn.

That wasn’t the answer I was expecting and I can tell it hits a nerve for him—maybe even reminding him of something he doesn’t like. I should be scared. His answer should terrify me, but for some reason it doesn’t.

“Come inside, Allen,” I tell him, leaning on the door. He looks at me intently. For a minute I think he’s going to turn me down and leave. I’m preparing for it, but he crosses the threshold, surprising me.

I close the door as he passes me and I lean against it as I try and get my thoughts in order.

“You have a nice place, Jessie.”

I turn to look at him. He’s so incredibly tall and broad that he fills my small living room. He also looks completely out of place in a room with pale green walls and pink flowery accents and white furniture. I almost want to giggle, but Allen is still lost in his thoughts, I can tell, and he looks unhappy and I don’t like that.

“It’s small and honestly the furniture was here when I moved in, but it’s comfortable,” I explain while I walk into the adjoining kitchen.

“It’s sweet without being overrun with color. It’s peaceful. It fits you.”

“You make me sound so exciting, Allen. I’m starting to understand why you call me Mouse now.”