Motion(Laws of Physics #1)(65)

Leaning a hand against the wall, I waited, twisting my lips to the side as I contemplated how best to view the sunset. My parents had a balcony that was more of a deck leading off my dad’s office. It faced northwest.

My mind was on the sunset when the doors slid open, which was probably why I didn’t immediately realize Abram was standing in the elevator. But when I did, I gasped. Cartoonishly. And then held perfectly still, staring at him with wide eyes.

Why I did this, I don’t know. My body had officially become weird around him. I was on the verge of disowning it and all its crazy Abram-related flutterings.

Meanwhile, he leaned against the back of the elevator, his arms crossed, looking at me with bland indifference. He was wearing all black. Black T-shirt, black jeans, black boots. Wait. Why is he wearing shoes?

“Are you going up?” he asked. Eventually.

“Uh. . .” I twisted my fingers. Debating. Debating. My attention lowered to his shoes again. Is he going somewhere?

The doors started to slide shut and he made no move to stop them. So, of course I launched myself into the scant space at the last second. The thing about small, private elevators is that their safety measures aren’t as responsive as the big, corporate building ones. Which meant I was knocked around a little by the closing doors.

Visibly alarmed, Abram reached out, one hand sliding around my waist, the other gripping my upper arm as he pulled me further into the small lift. This was presumably to either: a) save me from the jaws of death, or b) keep me from clumsily crashing into him.

With comical belatedness, the doors opened again, like, Oh. Did you want to get on? Sorry about that, old chap.

But I was already on the elevator, now pressed against the back wall by Abram; his back to the opening as though shielding me from any further door-related injuries; his eyes on mine, a mixture of concerned and confused.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded hurriedly, breathing in through my nose because I missed how he smelled. Soak it up, buttercup. This might be your last opportunity.

As usual, the fragrance of him had an inebriating, relaxing effect. But for some reason, this time it also made me want to . . . lick . . . something.

Abram continued to stare down at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” I took another breath through my nose. “How are you?”

Abram’s grip loosened a little, like he planned to release me.

So my mutinous mouth lied, “But I think I banged up my shoulder a little. Oh. Oh, ouch.” I lifted my right shoulder, making a wincing face, even though no part of me hurt. Pathetic.

“Is that where the door hit you?” His attention shifted to my offended shoulder and he inspected it, his eyebrows pulling together.

Huh. Clearly, he believed me, and I couldn’t believe he’d fallen for that. Perhaps I no longer require lying lessons.

“This is where it hit, yes.” I leaned forward a smidge, the doors behind him finally slid shut, and the elevator made a whirring sound as it slowly ascended.

I could only assume he’d pressed the button for the third floor when he’d originally stepped onto the elevator from the basement and that’s why we were moving. I hadn’t pressed the fourth-floor button yet, I’d been too busy liking how his body cocooned mine; liking how close he was and how that meant I could feel the warmth of him; liking how his hand slid up my arm to gently prod and smooth over my shoulder, checking for injury; liking how he hadn’t seemed to notice that my hands were on his biceps, enjoying the solid strength and size. Or if he’d noticed my hand placement, he didn’t seem to care.

Basically, continuing to gaze at Abram, I liked everything about the moment, and this was odd because he was—essentially—taking care of me. If you didn’t count medical professionals, I’d never experienced taking care with anyone but a nanny, my sister, and Gabby, all incidences which had occurred many, many moons ago.

He frowned at my shoulder. “I think it’s fine. But if it bothers you, we should ice it.”

“Okay,” I said softly, feeling inclined to agree with just about anything he suggested.

But then he stilled, his eyes cutting back to mine. Abram lifted an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing, assessing, examining.

He let me go. He removed himself to the adjacent wall. He crossed his arms.

Clearing his features of expression, his gaze dimming once more to disinterested and reserved, Abram stared forward and cleared his throat. A renewed pang of regret bounced around inside my ribcage as I watched this transformation, amazed at how much distance he was able to put between us in such a small space.

Clearing his throat again, he glanced at the digital floor readout, and then back to me. “Which floor?”

“The, uh, the fourth floor. The top floor.” The pang of regret sunk to my stomach. Knowing why he’d stepped back and not at all blaming him for putting distance between us, I rubbed my shoulder.

Though it was my heart that felt injured.





16





Further Applications of Newton’s Laws of Motion





I watched the sunset. By myself. Wondering when Gabby would finally show up. Feeling like the personification of a bookmark.

Bookmark was the perfect descriptive word for this restless paralyzed state of being. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do. I was a placeholder with no power or free will. My only utility was the fact that I existed. A bookmark.