Manipulative Attraction

22. ⚛️ Getting on the Good Foot

"Goodnight, Hawthorne."

I'm losing her...

Thorne was never in a situation like this before—dependent on the will of another. He'd always been in charge, coming out the victor no matter what or who he faced. With Jeannie, he hung suspended in the air, to either soar to the heavens, or fall to the earth, broken by the gravity of uncertainty.

He spoke before his future closed for good, "Wait, Jeannie."

"What?" Jeannie replied through her teeth, the word eking through the tiniest of cracks.

Thorne stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled a foot along a scratch on her wooden floor, his hair hanging in his face. "I thought we could watch a movie together."2

Thorne had learned to control his heart rate through his training at The Source, but nothing helped him now. A horse galloped in his chest and a neon sign winked on and off with the word "please" in his head.

"I thought you had a date?" Jeannie said, opening her door wider.

Only with you, he thought.

But self-preservation made him say, "No. No date. Not tonight."

Jeannie's heart stuttered. Thorne wanted her ... but only as a stand-in for the girl who'd canceled on him—he wasn't after her.

Not at all.

Jeannie clutched her stomach to stop the pull towards him. All these months she'd wanted Thorne, and now he was offering her something, Jeannie was hesitant to take it. If she went to him, heartbreak would be the outcome and everything she'd worked for would cease to exist.

She would cease to exist.

Jeannie had always envisioned, just like the heroines in her Viking books, when she fell for someone it wouldn't be halfway. She would give everything. But with a man like Thorne, it was impossible.

Thorne was the type of man who'd take and take and once he got what he wanted, he'd leave and not even trouble himself to look back.

Jeannie wouldn't let Thorne see how he affected her, but when she was alone, it would be a different story.

Friends then. We'll just be friends. I can do that, she thought.

Resolved with her choice, she opened the door as wide as it could go.

"You've quite a collection, Jeannie," Thorne said. He sat on the couch, flipping through her case of DVD's sorted by year and then by alphabetical order.

Jeannie sat next to him, careful to keep her thigh from brushing his when they moved. She turned her gaze from Thorne and focused on a distant object on the far wall. "Most I received by way of my mother. She was the one who'd gotten me hooked on watching old films before she..." Jeannie choked on her emotion, blinking back her tears.

"Same, Jeannie."

"Your mom is dead, too?"

Thorn nodded. It was better not to go into too much detail.

"I'm sorry, Hawthorne," Jeannie sympathized, surprising him as she patted his arm in commiseration.

"Yeah, well, it was a long time ago," he muttered. "I don't like to talk about it."

In the past, Thorne had used the tragedy of his parents to garner sympathy from his marks, changing the circumstances to suit his needs. With Jeannie, Thorne didn't want to lie ... at least no more than he had to.

"I won't press you, Hawthorne, but if you ever want to talk, I'm here." Jeannie gave his arm a squeeze, which blossomed hope in his heart. Thorne wanted to apologize for his actions the last time he was with her and for not helping her with those mean girls earlier.

It had taken all that was in him not to take matters into his own hands and do what he did best with Bekka and her friends—the spiteful bullies. Instead Thorne had folded his arms and told them, in no uncertain terms that bullying a fellow student was cause for disciplinary action by the faculty, dean's daughters or not.

Thorne conveyed the anger he was feeling into the looks he'd given them, and when he was through, the girls had scampered away as fast as their hooves could carry them.

"What, Hawthorne?" Jeannie's sweet look, full of kindness and all that was good, made Thorne's next words easy to say, even though he hadn't said or meant them since his mother died. He realized with shock that Jeannie had changed all of that.

"I'm sorry, Jeannie. For the last time we were together and for what those girls did today. I—"

"Don't worry about it, please." She turned her head from him, and Thorne mentally kicked himself for ruining the mood.

"Hey, forgive me, okay?" He lifted his hand, but strictly platonic popped into his mind, and he let it fall back in his lap.

Jeannie's head bobbed in acknowledgment, and when she turned back to face him, she was smiling, but her eyes burned. "Let's pick out a movie. Otherwise, we'll be here all night."

"Fine by me," Thorne replied, content to do just that.

Jeannie took the album from him, her hands brushing his thighs. They both shifted in their seats, amazed at the feelings a simple touch invoked.

Separately, they wondered how they would ever only be just friends.

Thorne had wanted to see a comedy and Jeannie a thriller. They finally settled on All About Eve with Betty Davis.

"Are you coming over to mine?" Thorne asked. He secretly hoped by the end of the movie Jeannie would be in his arms.

Friends did that, didn't they? he thought.

"Why don't we watch it here?"

"My TV is bigger than yours," Thorne said rising. He placed his hands on his hips. "Besides, I have great snacks." Thorne had gourmet popcorn, imported chocolate, and a fully stocked shelf of wine.

He'd gathered the items as enticements for the women he'd brought back home. However, all they'd ever wanted was one thing, and he'd happily given it to them over and over until they left with a smile embedded in their faces.

How could I have been satisfied with that? he mused. Now, he was after much, much more.

"What snacks?" Jeannie rose, mirroring his stance, her head cocked and curls spilling over her shoulder.

Thorne thought, this woman will be my ruination, yet all I can do is smile.

Thorne ticked off the list of goodies on his fingers. "I have extra butter popcorn, caramel popcorn, and some chocolate from Belgium. Not to mention the Chardonnay you like."

He remembered back to their first dinner and how she had enjoyed the wine, asking where she could buy a bottle. He'd promised to look it up and tell her, but he never had. Thorne mentally kicked himself for the lost opportunity. He was an idiot back then, but things had now changed for the better. Thorne had been blessed with a new chance and he wouldn't blow it.

Jeannie's stomach rumbled. She'd eaten less than half of her burrito at dinner. Shon had ruined her appetite by watching every lift of her fork with mournful eyes. She'd falsely declared herself unable to eat another bite so she could end the meal.

"Okay, Hawthorne. You've got me. Let's go to your apartment."