Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,34

cheeks prickled. “You think I don’t respect you? I respect the hell out of you, Channing. You were given a shit hand in life and look at you now. About to graduate college. It isn’t a lack of respect holding me back.”

Except… he wasn’t entirely wrong, was he? Obviously, I respected how he’d taken control of his life, and how he’d changed so much as a person. How he’d grown from a misfit to someone pursuing dreams and trying to help others. But it was wrong of me to keep saying I saw him as a man when I kept refusing to acknowledge that his feelings were real and valid, and that I shared them. And if I couldn’t see him as the man he was, the man he’d worked to be, then he was right—my respect was falling short. His eyebrow shot up, and I knew my revelation was painted on my face.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” I said. “Do you remember what you said to me in my office at your birthday party?”

“Yes. I asked you to see me as I am now. Are you ever going to be able to?”

I stared at him. All the hard, angular parts that had grown prominent in the past three years. A jawline that begged for teeth and tongue. The strong shoulders I couldn’t stop admiring, wanting to touch the new muscle and strength there. And this conversation we were having? One of us was being mature as hell, and it wasn’t me.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “Yeah, I see you.”

“Good,” Channing replied. “So I think you should take me on a real date. Get to know now-me instead of the past-me that seems to linger in your mind. If you still think dating me is a bad idea after that, or you really, truly can’t get over the age difference, then I’ll have to accept that. But if you ask me, getting hung up on our ages is fucking stupid.”

Unexpectedly, I laughed, shocked by the bluntness of Channing’s words. “I want to be clear. It isn’t the age gap specifically that bothers me. It’s like… I worry about a power imbalance. I’m terrified I’ll overwhelm you. And it isn’t an irrational fear. A long time ago, I was you. I dated a much older man, and it… wasn’t the best thing for me.”

He leaned forward, blue eyes piercing me. “Tell me.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck. “It was my art professor in college. He wasn’t just an instructor—he basically mentored me. Singled me out as his protege. He had a lot of wealth and connections, and he was so charismatic. Charisma and experience and good looks are great tools for masking manipulation,” I said. “Long story short, I got so lost in him that I didn’t see how much he’d been controlling my life until it was almost too late.”

Channing chewed thoughtfully on a bite of eggs before pointing his fork at me. “Okay. So is that what you want to do? Control me? Manipulate me?”

I rocked back. “Christ, no! Of course not. That’s the whole reason I’ve been saying no to you all this time!”

He shrugged. “Then that’s not an issue. Listen, I’m not asking for forever. I’m asking for a date and seeing how things go, one day at a time. And being honest like this instead of pretending like there isn’t something between us. Because after that kiss, Reagan, you can’t fool me into believing you don’t want me.”

I grumbled and dragged my hand through my hair. There was no turning back from this now—and what was the point in pretending anyway? He saw right through me. “I do want you, Channing. God help me, I want you so fucking bad.”

“Cool.” And then he dug into his meal.

Cool? Cool? Was he fucking kidding me? I wanted to scream. I wanted to laugh like a maniac. I wanted to shake the smug bastard and then kiss him stupid.

The rest of the meal was spent trying to find ease in this new space we’d entered with each other. My heart never stopped its racing as my mind wrapped itself around the fact that permissions had been granted. After denying myself for so long, I was nervous about the next steps. But I didn’t want to be nervous with Channing. So while we did the small talk thing, I gathered my nerves—my balls, as Channing had so kindly put it—and allowed myself to sink into a reality where I got