Breathe In (Just Breathe, #1)(90)

To play Joe at his own game, the temptation to delay further greets me. Unfortunately, the thought that Joe would take more opportunity to search my apartment for clues about me enters my mind, immediately dispelling the notion.

Riding the elevator down, Joe attempts to hold my hand several times. I jerk my hand away in protest. As much as I enjoy his touch, I want him to know I was serious about being just friends. He ushers Sadie and me out first with his hand on the small of my back. I do my best not to notice. Aware that he’s baiting me now, I can tell he’s enjoying himself. After giving Sadie some time at the park, I start walking back to my apartment.

“Where are you going?”

“To drop Sadie off,” I say.

“Why?”

“I don’t have her vest,” I answer.

It’s not the complete answer. As much as I love having Sadie along, it’s not fair to expect her to just go where ever we go for dinner, especially if it draws too much attention. Plus, I don’t want to drag her into the middle of whatever this is between Joe and me.

Joe studies me for a moment, not sure what to make of my statement. “Okay,” he cautiously agrees.

After dropping Sadie off, my mood changes as we enter the elevator. Did I make the right choice taking Sadie home? Should I have grabbed her vest and brought her along? Arguing with myself causes me not to notice when Joe takes my hand until the elevator door rings open and I quickly pull away.

Stopping just outside the gate, Joe turns to me and sweetly offers, “We don’t have to go to dinner. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s okay,” I return with unconvincing lightheartedness.

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” He tries to hide a pained expression, but his voices carries it.

“It’s okay. Really. I’m sorry,” I confess.


“Why are you apologizing? I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Joe’s clearly confused by my reaction.

“It’s not you . . . It’s just . . .” I begin to explain.

Hearing the tension in my voice he replies, “You don’t have to explain and you certainly don’t have to have dinner with me, Emma.”

“Yes I do,” I honestly contend.

“No, you don’t,” he urges.

“It’s just that I’m still off from this weekend . . . I mean . . .” my voice trails as I look away.

My brain and heart are still caught up and confused by the dream, the change in the dream and the intensity of it; not to mention our interactions. Our first kiss and our almost several other kisses. Our sharing the same bed again — me being able to share a bed with him a second time — having the best night’s sleep when I’m with him — that my mixed emotions are getting the better of me and I don’t know what to make of them let alone what do. When I’m around him, I don’t feel like myself and need to get away, but the minute I’m not with him, I want him near.

A second later, Joe has me circled in his arms. I burry my face into his neck to combat the tears that are threatening my eyes. The last thing I want is to cry in front of Joe, so I work hard to control myself. Joe gently stokes one hand repeatedly over my head as he squeezes me as tight as he can. I’m able to fight off the sobs, but a few tears find their way onto my cheeks. When Joe takes my face in his hands, he kindly wipes the tears before kissing me on my forehead.

When I realize that we are back at my door, I inquire, “What are you doing?”

“Taking you home. You need to rest,” he announces.

“Why? I owe you dinner,” I object.

“You don’t owe me anything. If anything I owe you. Three answers to three questions to be exact,” he reminds.

His admittance gets a chuckle from me which in turn gets him to smile. Joe’s kindness does not go unnoticed, but I do question if his actions are prompted by pity.

“I am hungry,” I express as my stomach grumbles more at the thought of food.

“It’s up to you. Whatever you want to do?”

I stare at him not sure what to decide as I fidget with my keys. I want both, but I can’t have both. I want to move on and have dinner with him, but I also want to go inside and hide from the world, conflicted by wanting him to come inside the apartment with me and sending him home at the same time.

I’m not sure what he sees in my eyes, but Joe suggests, “We’ll do dinner another time.”

“You sure?” I say heart-broken.

The thought that he’s avoiding me now because I’m upset concerns me.

“Yes,” he states firmly as he leans and presses his lips to my forehead. His lips linger before his forehead touches mine and he gently rubs his nose with mine. Moaning I shake my head, not because I’m expecting a kiss, but for chastising myself for wanting one.

Joe moves like he’s about to take my mouth with his, but then he suddenly stops. He kisses my cheek instead. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

Pausing to feel his embrace a little longer, I keep my hands on his arms. “Goodnight, Joe.”





Twenty


There’s nothing like waking up in the morning after a night of snack indulging, sappy romance movie watching and lengthy, intense self-satisfaction to soothe an aching girl’s soul. The funk has dissolved, my mood has greatly improved, however, I am just as horny as I was last night.