[2022 Wattys Winner] When love cynic Madison Watson starts university, she vows to follow three simple rules.
One: Work out at least twice a week.
Two: Get an internship.
Three: Stay away from men.
But after a chance encounter with th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Our dorm building was uncharacteristically quiet when we returned. Then again, it was Saturday night.
The cab ride back had stalled my exploration of James—though certainly not by choice. Rather, our driver was a chatty fellow, only too happy to share every detail about his life and how he had fallen into cab driving in the first place. James was clearly in a better headspace to engage in casual conversation than I was. Ever-polite, he indulged our driver with all the charm of a Victorian gentleman, chuckling at his dad jokes and nodding along to his lessons about the key to happiness and the secrets of the universe.
Even though he took the reins of conversation, his hand never left mine. He stroked it mindlessly, his touch compounding the ecstasy rushing through my veins. Truly tempting my ability to hold myself back for our poor driver's sake.
How could he act like his body wasn't on fire? Mine was burning.
I thrust the key into the door of my dorm room, my hand fumbling around the metal more than once. My brain was a collage of memories from the night, of conversations and images and revelations. But while some swirled about hazily, others were much clearer. And, through it all, desire was consuming me. A need to feel a part of something, to know that I wasn't alone.
I opened the door. The first thing that hit me was darkness. My room was empty and silent, illuminated only by a mellow light refracting through the sheer curtains and spraying across my bed in flickering, dancing fractures.
Something had changed on James' face when I turned back to peer at him. At Rocky's, in the cab, I felt as if we were on the same level. On exactly the same level. But now, watching him hover in my doorway, I felt as if I'd turned a page without him. Or as if he was debating whether to close the book completely.
"Do you want to come in?" I asked, my breath bated.
"Come in?" he repeated.
I shrugged, sparing another glance behind me. "My roommate's staying with her boyfriend tonight."
Even with only the dim hall light overhead, I could see James' eyes sparkle. He held my gaze a moment longer. A moment that stretched into two, that made my heart flop and repressed parts of me shiver. Maybe he felt it, too.
Maybe that's why he looked away.
"I probably shouldn't—"
"Shouldn't?" I questioned. "Or don't want to?" I was piercing him with my eyes, daring him to tell me that it was the latter. To confirm my suspicions—that everything on the dance floor had just been bravado. Because if he didn't want to, if he didn't want me, then I needed to hear it. Now.
He ran a hand through his locks of golden hair. I heard him take a deep breath, heard that it was unsteady. That was unusual for him. He was usually so cool. So collected. So sure. Standing in the hall, he seemed ... hesitant.
