Imperfect Chemistry, Page 33

  “I am so sorry,” Jensen says, for the fourth time since we left his parent’s house.

  “It’s not your fault.” We’re almost back to the duplex. After our hasty departure, Jensen was silent for approximately five minutes before he began the effusive apologies.

  “I brought you into the lion’s den,” he says. “I knew they would be difficult, they always are, but I didn’t think they would be that crazy.” He laughs. “If anything, I thought they would behave more if you were there as a buffer.”

  “You can’t control other people’s behavior. You can only control your own.”

  “I shouldn’t have even told them we were—” He stops speaking suddenly and waves his hand, “Hanging out,” he says finally.

  He turns down the alley and into the parking spot, leaving the car on so the soft filter of music is still trickling through the air. Neither of us moves to leave the car right away.

  “I hope I’m not distracting you from your studies,” I say. “If you need assistance or if you want me to help in some way?”

  “No. It’s fine.” He smiles at me. “What are you doing later?” he asks.

  I pause at the sudden shift in conversation. “Freya is back, and she invited me over for dinner,” I say. “I would ask you to come, but I’m not sure what the proper etiquette would be in this situation since it’s at her house.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says. There’s a pause and then he says, “Will you come over after?”

  “Yes,” I respond quickly. “I’m not sure how late it will be.”

  “That’s okay.” He shuts the car off then, and pulls the keys from the ignition. After fumbling with the ring for a moment, he hands a key to me. “Just let yourself in if I’m sleeping.”

  “Okay.”

  He gets out of the car then, and so do I, slipping the key in my front pocket.

  We walk up the steps to the front porch in silence.

  “Thank you for inviting me to brunch,” I say, turning towards him.

  When I look up, he’s watching me with dark, serious eyes.

  He reaches a hand out and cups my jawline. His thumb moves back and forth across my cheek. We don’t do more than stare at each other for a few long moments. Then his hand exerts a gentle pressure, pulling me towards him. When our lips meet, it happens again. I try to maintain my composure, but something about the feel of his lips moving softly against mine and the smell of his cologne makes my normally active brain turn into a whirl of nothing but sensation and instinct. I slide my hands under his jacket and around his back, pulling our bodies together so we are touching from our chests down.

  He pulls away and gazes down at me, his hands still on my face. “I should go,” he says.

  “Okay,” I say.

  Then he tugs me back towards him and this time the kiss isn’t gentle at all. When we separate again we’re both breathing heavily.

  “This time, I really mean it,” he says.

  “Right,” I say, leaning into him and pulling his head down towards me.

  After a few moments, he removes his hands from me and takes a large step away. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll see you later.”

  I nod and turn away to head to my side of the duplex, but he grabs my arm and reels me in one last time. His kiss is hard and swift and then it’s over and he’s slipping back into his place.

  It takes me a second to recover, and when I finally get behind my door I have to lean back against it to catch my breath.

  ***