“Okay. Can I have your number, though? I’d like to talk.” I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that. Silently, I hold out my hand. My neck burns as I bend my head and tap my number into his phone. I can feel his eyes on me, as surely as I could feel his hands on my hips the other night. I roll my shoulder absently as I hand his phone back, the memory of last weekend at war with my dislike of being touched tonight. I want him, but I also want to be left alone.
