Duplicity [p.h]

chapter ten || can of emotional worms

Eric froze, the bag brushing against his raised hands as it swung back from impact. Cautiously, as if one wrong move would steal something from him, Eric straightened up to face me.

I froze too, but I had no idea what to do with myself, much less what to say.

"Without... what?"

You know damn well what.

"Without..."

I would have liked to fling a million curses around as if it would make coming up with an answer somehow easier. I knew damn well what it was too. The reassuring touch. The gentle brush of comfort against my hand that communicated something more than just encouragement. The softness of a calloused palm, of calloused fingers and knuckles against my own. His touch. I couldn't describe it or what it made me feel.

"Your mentorship, of course." I wanted nothing more than to bang my head against the wall. "You took me under your wing the day I got here. It really made the difference and I feel so much more comfortable now that I kno—"

"Gods, Jax," Eric interrupted. He wore the slightest smug smile on face as if he knew something I didn't, or maybe something he wasn't supposed to. "Sometimes I forget how much you ramble when you're nervous."

Nervous. Yes. That was it. Partially. And it had to be because of tomorrow's ambush.

Wearing a sheepish smile, my cheeks reddening against my will, I nudged my bag around so I would have something to do with my hands. "Nervous. Yeah. About the, uh, about tomorrow's thing. The Candor, er—"

I met Eric's gaze.

"Rambling again?"

"Yep."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize." Eric bit the inside of his cheek. "It was annoying when you first got here, on the off occasion you were nervous — which you rarely were, and I suppose that's one of the reasons why I— never mind. Anyway, keep rambling. It's... endearing."

He looked like he was trying to hold himself back, desperately gripping onto his self control as though he would go rabid and pounce the second he slipped.

"Er," I stammered, not entirely sure how to respond. "I'll, uh, stop overthinking it when I do, then." Complete with an awkward laugh after the last word slipped out and a stray strand of hair that escaped from my ponytail to invade my line of sight, I had successfully made myself want to fling my person off the Hancock building sans ziplining harness.

Ziplining...

The beginnings of an idea swirled in the back of my mind — but I would have to come back to that later.

To my relief, Eric must have found my awkwardness to be equally as "endearing" as my rambling; he offered me a jolly (jolly) chuckle as he leaned closer to me, reaching his hand out gently and carefully to tuck away the wayward hair behind my ear.

Then, he stepped back and let his eyes roam over my face. Slowly, surely, he let that animalistic resistance take over his features, which became hungrier and hungrier by the second—

This is wrong.

I cleared my throat.

He retreated. Neither of us spoke for a moment, although Eric appeared to be seconds away from hitting something despite the control he seemed to regain over himself.

"I—"

"It's—"

"Sorry."