Sweet Spot

Chapter 20 | Scars

I blink. Is he...inviting me to his place? That seems forbidden for so many reasons. One of them being his exact orders months back about never knocking on his door or getting comfortable. It's kind of hard to believe all that's changed.

It's scary because this isn't just anyone these changes are happening with. It's Holden. He took hold of my heart as a kid, when everyone insisted it was just puppy love but I knew it was more, and seeing him again after all these years has just proved that. Holden Rey has always been the most important person in my life, even when he wasn't a part of it. That's what makes him so terrifying. That's what makes everything that's happening between us so nerve-wracking. But I think the one thing that scares me more than getting close to Holden again is losing him a second time.

So I nod and lock up behind me, following him inside his apartment as he leads us away.

We step inside and I notice how it looks straight out of a furniture catalog. That's the first thought that comes to mind. The furniture is sleek back, accented by red rugs and beige walls. There's a massive T.V. and sectional upon entering the living room, and I'm surprised to find his walls decorated. There's pictures of him and Mason, pictures of him and his clients at games and events, but none of him during his own football career. For whatever reason that jumps out to me first and I feel a pang of pain for him. It's times like this that I realize he probably never recovered from the loss.

His apartment has the same set-up as mine. Same in size too but his place just looks fancier and more put together. I would guess he had a professional come in and do the interior design. This complex is a nice place but it's not the most lavish in downtown San Francisco. I mean, duh, it's barely within my pay grade and I hardly make that much money in the first place. He could afford a place that's bigger and better but he chose this and had it modified to fit his successful taste. It's kind of...humble. Holden can be flashy with the way he dresses and presents himself but he's definitely not materialistic either.

"It's really nice," I comment and spin in a slow circle, taking it all in. "The interior is killer."

"Joyce did it," He answers my unspoken question while walking over to me. Our eyes lock and there's amusement dancing in his. "The woman you saw walk out of my apartment when you were spying on me?"

Oh my God.

A pit of embarrassment forms in my stomach and I might just hurl. So he did see me that day. I silently pray for an anvil to fall on my head and get me out of this. That's definitely the only solution.

"I was't spying," I scoff, laughing nervously. "I just...happened to look at a coincidentally specific moment."

"And then acted like you weren't home when I knocked on your door not even two minutes later?"

So apparently Satan has a freakishly accurate memory. Cool. Awesome. Rail me like a train collision fantastic.

I did ignore him when he knocked on my door that day and continued to avoid him up until the day of the carnival. In my defense I was a hot and jealous mess and didn't want to come across that way to his face. Plus it was after the night of the gala and seeing another woman walk out of his apartment hurt. A lot. I just wanted some space and time to hurt.

"I'm sorry," I apologize now with a wince. It's long overdue. "That was immature of me. You didn't deserve a cold shoulder for sleeping with her. I was just being dumb."

Before I know it, I'm pulled into him when he cradles the back of my head and tilts it up with a simple tug. Okay, then. We're completely pressed against each other and yup, he feels as good as he did when he kissed me earlier this week. My pulse races at the reminder and the sensation of his thumb rubbing circles at the base of my neck.