Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [62]
“Well, we have that in common.” I grinned a toothy grin and he smiled back before his face got serious again.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” His words just hung there, but he kept those green eyes on me.
I don’t know if “uncomfortable silence” is the phrase I’d use for the wordless thirty seconds that passed, but then Brendan broke our unspoken moment.
“I did wait for you outside of school,” Brendan softly reminded me. I nodded, smiling a little bit at the memory of how my stomach fluttered the two times I saw him lounging against the mailbox, clearly looking for me. The U.S. Postal Service should hire him for an ad campaign. If he were at the mailbox every time you sent a letter, no one would use email ever again.
“Did you mind?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “I mean…I didn’t mind waiting for you.” I hoped I was reading the double meaning correctly.
“I didn’t mind. I liked seeing you.” Brendan started smiling his rakish grin back at me—then suddenly stopped.
“Then why won’t you tell me?” he demanded.
“Tell you what?” I knew I sounded exasperated, but what was it that he wanted to know so badly?
“Why won’t you tell me the truth? What’s your real story?” I couldn’t believe it, but Brendan actually sounded hurt. “You’re not from Philadelphia. You’re lying about everything. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” So the real story of my shattered home life is what he wanted me to tell him, on that first day when he met me outside of school. I felt myself getting defensive.
“This is the most you’ve talked to me in two weeks, do you realize that? I don’t even know where you’re from. Where you live. Who your parents are,” I spit out, my ripped-open wounds evident in my tone, much to my dismay. “At least I’m consistent with you. You treat me differently from one day to the next. You talk to me when no one’s looking, like you’re embarrassed to be associated with me or something. Maybe on Monday you’ll go back to treating me like the social leper the rest of the snobs at that school seem to think I am.” He cringed at that.
“I’m not going to do that, Emma.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, Brendan,” I retorted, crossing my arms defiantly.
He reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling my defensive pose apart. “Emma, I promise you, I won’t ignore you like that again,” he said, holding my hand in both of his. “And you’re right. It’s not fair of me to expect you to tell me anything when you don’t really know me. You don’t owe me anything. Especially after how I’ve been acting. Which, Emma, I really am sorry for.”
Brendan’s eyes searched mine as he slipped his fingers around my palm and pulled my hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of my hand. His kiss was featherlight, but I felt the imprint of his lips as they scorched my skin.
“And I promise you, I am not, in any way, embarrassed to be seen with you. I’m really, really sorry you think that.”
He dropped my hand from his mouth, but still kept a gentle hold on it, looking down at the way our fingers intertwined. “I can’t believe I made you think that,” he whispered, more to himself than to me.
“Brendan—” I started, but he cut me off.
“I want to make it right. So, I’ll make you a deal,” Brendan said, the confidence returning to his voice as his gaze met mine. “Let’s just enjoy dinner, and then I’ll walk you home, like a good boy. After you’ve had fun tonight, and after I’ve had fun tonight, I’ll ask you out properly. For tomorrow. Come over to my place. My parents are out of town, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”
I cocked an eyebrow, causing Brendan to amend his statement. “Aw, come on, Emma, I don’t mean like that. We’ll just be able to spend some time together. And you can ask me anything you want. You’ll see where I live. You can even go through my stuff, rifle through my drawers and all that. Flip my mattress over, I don’t care. And you’ll say yes, like a good girl.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself,” I observed, popping a piece of chicken into my mouth.