My Side by Tara Brown Page B

shook my head, “No.
I shouldn’t have even entertained the thought of dinner with Mike. It was mean.
I was mad at you for the whole kiss last night.”
    He leaned his forehead
against mine, “Promise me, you’ll use your words next
time.”
    I laughed, “Pot
calling the kettle black. You’re an asshole.”
    He nodded his face
against mine, “I know.” He took my hand and pulled me to the door. We walked
down the road, holding hands. He glanced over at me, “Why a magic store?”
    I looked back at it,
“I wanted to ask for a spell to get over you.”
    He gave me a sly
smile, “You that hooked on me?”
    Refusing to answer, I
bit my lip. He wrapped his arm around me, “You know you are.”
    I looked up at him,
“Every girl in Boston is.”
    His eyes sparkled,
even under the dull, gray sky, “You need to look into my eyes and see the
person I’m looking at. There won’t ever be anyone but you in there. When you
see me at the show or signing autographs, that’s not me. This right now, with
you, is me.” He stopped, pulling me into his embrace, “It’s always been me with
you.”
    He was right. When I
looked into his blue eyes, I could see myself.
    I pulled him down,
pressing my lips against his.
    We left Salem, both
holding onto the intense feelings of the possibilities of what was coming.
Gerry left us at the apartment and he and Danny took the car. Lochlan walked to
the small store near us to get groceries, and I went upstairs to get cleaned up
for dinner. Technically not for dinner.
    I pulled on the only
pretty outfit in my closet and looked at myself. White eyelet skirt and
pale-pink tank top. My hair was a curly mess but he liked it. Weirdo.
    He liked me the way I
was naturally, even if I didn’t.
    My stomach was in
knots. I fidgeted and walked around my room, pacing and playing out how the
evening was going to go. He would come back and make me dinner. We would have a
glass of wine and laugh.
    I had to shake my head
and rearrange a few things.
    He was going to make
me hot dogs or Kraft Mac and Cheese and we’d drink beer.
    Whatever.
    We’d eat and have a
drink. Maybe we’d kiss, and then somehow, end up in his bed. The images of the
other girl in there killed that, “My bed,” I muttered, tapping my fingers
against my lips.
    I heard the door to
the apartment, making my head snap towards my door. I didn’t move. I didn’t
know how to be cool about having sex with him. He was experienced in a way I
wasn’t, not to mention, we were roommates. If we didn’t work, we would have to
contend with it. Mostly, it was his sexuality that scared me. I’d had sex but
it was only with the three guys I’d dated, and they were all nineteen or
younger. They weren’t amazing. They all were fairly average and new to sex,
like me. I’d dated guys like me. Nerdy, book guys who hung in coffeehouses.
Guys like Gerry.
    This was uncharted
territory. He had tattoos in places I hadn’t even touched on other people. I’d
had sex in the dark with my eyes closed.
    He’d already made me
feel like I was burning up from the inside out, which was more than any of the
other three had ever done. I chewed my lip.
    I
had a horrid feeling , we were making a
mistake . The idea of losing him hurt more than not having him. I reached
for the door and turned the lock. I dropped to my knees and leaned my forehead
against the door.
    He called me. I didn’t
answer. I felt sick.
    I heard his footsteps
on the hardwood floors and closed my eyes. He turned the locked handle on the
door.
    “Erin?”
    I stopped breathing.
    “You okay?”
    I shook my head, “I
don’t feel good.”
    He turned the lock
harder, aggressively, “Let me in.”
    I placed my hands on
the door, “Can we reschedule? My stomach is hurting.”
    “No. I know why it’s
hurting.” There was a thump on the floor, and suddenly his voice was next to
mine through the hollow door, “Mine’s hurting too.”
    I whispered, “What if
we fuck this up?”
    He was quiet