The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,49
with something constructive for a few hours. He shut the door and pushed the rusty bolt home, then contemplated the house. As though pulled by a force beyond his control, his gaze moved over the fence to Mackenzie’s place. Light spilled out of the kitchen window, signaling she was up already, like himself. For a moment he toyed with the idea of throwing convention to the wind and going next door to say his piece despite the early hour. Anything to get past the moment where he had to look into her eyes and acknowledge his own poor judgment.
He teetered on the edge of temptation for a few seconds before sanity prevailed. Arriving on her doorstep at this hour smacked of desperation and preoccupation. Turning off the flashlight, he trudged toward the house.
“Oliver. Is that you?” Mackenzie’s voice traveled clearly over the fence.
He stopped in his tracks, ankle-deep in wet grass. “Mackenzie.”
“You’re up early,” she called.
“So are you.”
He moved toward the fence and stepped up onto the first crossbar. Thanks to the reach of both their exterior lights, he could see her quite clearly. She stood on the other side looking at him, arms tightly crossed over her chest. She wore sunny yellow flannelette pajamas and an oversize navy cardigan, the sleeves rolled up several times to accommodate her small frame. Her hair was flat on one side, spiky on the other and her eyes looked tired.
“Hi,” he said.
Not great as openers went, but it would do.
“Hi.”
“Cold out.”
“It is.” She rubbed her hands over her biceps as though to generate some warmth. “Listen, Oliver. About last night...”
His belly tensed. Here goes...
“Yeah. I was going to come see you about that.”
“You were?” Her cheeks were pink, her chin tilted so she could look him in the eye.
“Yeah. Wanted to clear the air. So things wouldn’t get weird. If I upset you last night... I didn’t mean to leap on you or anything.”
“Oh, you didn’t. I mean, I didn’t feel leaped on. Far from it.”
Her cheeks were very pink now and she seemed to have trouble meeting his gaze—reactions that perfectly mirrored his own. Jesus, since when had being an adult gotten so hard?
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little out of practice with this stuff,” he said. “Which I guess is why I got my signals all wrong. So...sorry about that. Won’t happen again.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Um, okay.”
There was a beat of awkward silence and her forehead creased into furrows.
“Better go feed Strudel. She usually starts trying to gnaw her own leg off if we’re up too long with no sustenance.”
“Sure. Of course.”
He lifted a hand in farewell. “See you around.”
“Yes. See you.”
He released his grip on the fence and stepped down to the ground, very aware that his armpits were damp with clammy, nervous sweat.
If he never had to have another conversation like that in his lifetime, he would die a happy man.
“Oliver?”
He took a moment to put his game face firmly in place before bracing his foot on the crossbar again and hoisting himself up so he could see her.
She was still frowning, but there was a determined tilt to her chin now.
“I didn’t— Your wires weren’t crossed. Me pulling away like that wasn’t about you.”
He nodded, even though he didn’t really understand what she was getting at. “Okay.”
She stared at him, her expression troubled. He waited for her to say more but she made a helpless gesture with one hand.
“I guess I’m pretty rusty with this stuff, too.”
“Good to know I’m not alone. Gives me hope.”
“Yes. There’s always comfort in numbers, isn’t there?”
They both fell silent. Against his will, his gaze shifted from her upturned face to the shadowy neckline of her pajama top. He hadn’t noticed before, but his vantage point gave him a perfect view of her cleavage.
Maybe it was just him, but it seemed like a really bad time to register that she wasn’t wearing a bra under all that yellow flannel.
“I should go,” he said abruptly, dragging his gaze to her face.
“Okay.”
For the second time he raised a hand in farewell before dropping to the ground. He mouthed a curse as he made his way to the house. He had no idea what their conversation had been about, apart from the fact that he’d apologized and she’d accepted. But he now knew that Mackenzie had the tiniest of freckles on the upper curve of her right breast and that her skin looked smoother than velvet.
You are officially beyond help. You know that, right?