Pas de Deux: Part One (A Cross and Pointe Novel Book 1) (19 page)

You don’t need them to save you. You save you.

She thought back to what she’d been taught and shut her eyes again, taking some deep breaths and using her entire diaphragm to coax air in and out of her lungs deeply. At the same time, she counted backward from ten, then repeated the entire process two more times. When she finally opened her eyes, her entire body was relaxed.

Then the entry buzzer went off, and she went shaky and sick again.

Answer the door, Samantha.

She went to the small box on the wall next to the door and pressed a button. “Who is it?” She knew who it was.

“Cillian.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Time to leap.

He’s here. Open the door.

Sammi flexed her fingers anxiously and jabbed at the intercom panel.

“O-okay.” The electronic lock snapped and the sound echoed through the apartment. She could practically hear his footsteps on the stairs.

Calm. The hell. Down. He is just a guy. A person. A human person.

Sammi attempted to drawn in a few more quick deep breaths, but all she succeeded in doing was making herself dizzy and lightheaded. There was a knock on her door, and with a trembling hand, she reached for the knob.

Her stomach dropped at the sight of him. Cillian was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved light blue shirt, and clean white tennis shoes. The scent of his spicy, clean cologne wafted from the hallway, increasing her lightheadedness. His sandy hair even had a little product in it. Sammi pawed at her own hair and tugged on the end of her old, tattered sweatshirt.

He wore jeans. And hair gel. For you…

He peered at her. “Hi.” It came out like a question.

Stop staring and talk. Say anything. Say hello.
“Hey.”

For a moment she just clutched the edge of the door and looked at him. No other words came, so she just stepped back, cowering behind the door, and let him in. She tapped her forehead against it after he was through.

Not off to a great start here.

Cillian stood in the middle of her living room, his hands shoved in his pockets. He took in his surroundings with a sweeping glance before his gaze settled on the framed pictures of her family on various shelves of the large entertainment center against the wall.

“You got a nice place.” He gestured at a photo. “That’s your family? I recognize your sister.”

“Yep, most of them.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Most of them here in Boston, I should say. Well, all of them in the picture are in Boston. I have extended family in New York. In Bensonhurst. Have you heard of Bensonhurst? It’s a little neighborhood in Italy. I mean, in Brooklyn. It’s called Little Italy. I also still have family in Italy. In Sicily. I’ve never been there but I want to go. One day. Someday.”

Stop. Talking.
Sammi shut her mouth with a snap and blinked at him.

He lifted his brows a fraction of an inch. “So, you got a big family then. That’s cool. Italy would be awesome. I spent some time at Aviano Air Force base. Not much, but a little. It was pretty nice, from what I saw.”

Sammi just nodded, folding her lips inward.

Cillian waited, and after an awkward beat of silence, added, “Anyway, I’m looking forward to meetin’ your family.”

She shook her head rapidly. “You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

He chuckled. “You sound so worried about it. Don’t. It’ll be a good time.”

You poor, sweet, unsuspecting thing.

Sammi gestured to her pale gray, microfiber sectional couch. “Have a seat.” He settled into a corner and she sat a few feet away, hugging a cushion against her body like a shield as she studied him out of the corner of her eye.

“You look nice. I feel like a slob.” She meant it as a light, charmingly self-deprecating jab, but forgot to laugh.

“You look great.” He met her gaze, then shifted his eyes from her. “You always do.”

Sammi’s cheeks flamed, but before she had to think of a minimally awkward reply, Rocky chose that moment to saunter into the room, freezing in his journey to the kitchen as he noticed Cillian. His ears and whiskers pointed toward the unknown human and his tail hovered cautiously just above the carpet.

“I didn’t know you had a pet.” Cillian flicked his head at the cat. “What’s his name? Her name?”

“His name is Rocky.” Sammi lowered her hand to invite Rocky to come closer. He immediately moved toward her to rub his face against her hand and silently beg for behind-the-ear scratches, purring loudly.

“Rocky, huh? As in, Balboa?”

Sammi laughed. “No. Although, he thinks he’s pretty tough when he’s squaring off against the alley cats. Through the window.” She ran her hand along Rocky’s back as it arched and scratched the area where tail met rump. Rocky’s purrs grew louder. “I named him Rocky because of those dark gray rings around his tail. It reminded me of a raccoon tail. Raccoon…Rocky. I dunno, it made sense at the time.”

Rocky jumped agilely onto the couch, stepping over Sammi’s lap as he moved toward Cillian. Cillian didn’t move but his eyes followed the cat’s movements as he got closer, then slowly extended a hand, at which Rocky sniffed delicately. Apparently approving of the scent, Rocky licked his hand.

“Feels weird. Tickles.”

“Is that okay?” Sammi asked. “Are you okay with cats, are you allergic or anything?”

Cillian shook his head, his eyes still on the cat. “Not allergic. Never been a huge cat fan, but he seems cool.” Rocky crept closer, swiping his cheeks against Cillian’s forearm before gently butting his head into Cillian’s bicep.

“Aw. He likes you.”

Cillian glanced at her, then back down at the loudly purring cat. “How do you know that?”

“He bunted you.”

“He whatted me?”

“Bunting is when cats knock their heads against you. It’s one way they show affection. He bunts me all the time. Usually against my chest.” She giggled.
Okay. So cats are good ice-breakers.

“Huh.” Cillian glanced down at the cat. “You like me, bro?”

He scratched Rocky behind the ears as Sammi had done, and the cat’s eyes closed to slits as he leaned into the scratch. Cillian watched him closely, a half-smile on his face.

“I guess you’re all right, buddy,” he murmured, moving his fingers to scratch below his chin, and the cat purred his approval. After a few moments, he abruptly decided he’d had enough and picked his way across the couch toward Sammi, crawling into her lap and raising himself up on his hind legs, pressing his front paws hard into her chest as he leaned into her face to sniff her mouth.

“What’s that about?” Cillian chuckled as Sammi tried to push the cat down. He refused to budge, leaning in to nip at her nose.

She dodged his fangs. “He’s hungry, that’s all. It’s his dinnertime.” Suddenly she remembered the purpose of Cillian’s visit and glanced over Rocky’s head at him. “Speaking of. Are you hungry?”

“Sure.”

“I made grilled chicken salads with feta cheese and tomatoes, and toasted flatbread. Italian oil vinaigrette for the dressing. Is that okay? I tried to make something healthy-ish since you’re training.”

Cillian bobbed his head. “Sounds really good. Can I help?”

“Nope, I got it. The bathroom is around the corner, first door on the left if you want to wash your hands. C’mon, Rock, it’s kibble-time.”

She went to the kitchen, Rocky at her heels and squeaking hungry excitement, pacing frantically until kibble was scooped into his bowl. He dove in, somehow managing to purr as he ate.

Sammi washed and dried her hands, then fixed the salads and warmed the pita in her microwave. She heard Cillian in the bathroom washing his hands as she carried the plates back into the living room to set on the coffee table. He walked in a moment later, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

“I have iced tea, hot tea, bottled water.” Sammi ticked off the options on her fingers. “Lemonade. Wine.”

Wine? Why would you even present that as an option?

“Iced tea is fine with me. Is that what you want? I’ll get it, so you can take a load off. You did all the cooking.”

“No, no.” Sammi waved him off. “You’re my guest.”

Sammi retrieved two glasses of iced tea and returned to the living room. She tilted her head, seeing Cillian sitting still with his eyes closed. Then she realized he was praying.

She quietly took her seat on the couch, not wanting to disrupt him, feeling a little guilty for not saying her own prayer. But his still face, his slightly creased brow, made her heart catch in her chest and thump once off beat.

He’s beautiful…

Cillian crossed himself, then opened his eyes and looked at her, finding her staring. She flushed at being caught and glanced down at her plate.

“This looks really good. You made this?”

Sammi nodded. “Yes, but it was really easy. I can’t cook very well. Nowhere near as good as my sisters and my mom, anyway.” She speared a piece of chicken and watched from under her lashes as he took a bite. He chewed for a moment then nodded.

“It’s great.” He forked up another large bite.

She tore off a piece of pita. “I’m not sure you’d tell me even if it wasn’t.” The tension in her shoulders began to release, and her muscles relaxed with each passing moment.
See? It’s fine. You’re fine.
“You’re too nice for that.”

He smirked as he stabbed some chicken with his fork. “Not always.” He winked, and she flushed again.

She struggled to find something equally flirtatious to snap back at him, but nothing came fast enough, so she just watched him from under her lashes instead. He ate fast, but not in a mannerless way. Sammi just picked at her food; she was more relaxed, but her stomach was still tense.

Cillian wiped his mouth and balled his napkin next to the plate. “That was really good. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“First good meal I’ve had all day, actually. I usually make sure I get a decent breakfast but I’m so busy during the day that I hardly ever have time for lunch, except for a protein bar here and there.”

“Ugh.” Sammi shuddered. “Those things are disgusting. And the texture is always so…mealy.”

“You got a texture thing?”

“Kind of. And protein bars are so dry and make me so thirsty. I need something that feels…nice in the mouth, you know?” As soon as the words left her mouth, Sammi’s eyes widened.
Really? Just…really, Samantha?

One of his brows arched slightly and the corner of his mouth went up. A long moment passed. “I do know what you mean.” His eyes twinkled as they met hers for a long beat. “So, how was your day?”

As the moments stretched and Sammi relaxed more, she found herself starting to do most of the talking. Occasionally, she wondered if she was talking too much as he rarely made eye contact with her, but then he’d ask a question pertaining to something she’d just said.

Sammi was surprised that he seemed to be genuinely interested in what she was saying.
How’s he so good at getting me talk when hardly anyone else can?

“Are you ready for dessert? I made yogurt parfaits.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Sammi nodded over her shoulder to her extensive DVD collection as she took his plate. “Feel free to pick out a movie, if you have time, that is.”

In the kitchen, she piled mixed fruit in the bottom of parfait glasses, spooned on a generous amount of cool vanilla yogurt, and added a sprinkling of granola and a drizzle of honey. When she returned to the living room, Cillian was turning a DVD over in his hand.

“What’d you find?”

He held it up. It was an old drama from the nineties with Al Pacino and Keanu Reeves, one she hadn’t seen it in a while. “This okay?”

“Sure, that’s fine with me.”

He opened her DVD player and placed the disc inside as she used her remote control to switch the TV to DVD-mode, then handed him a parfait glass.

“Fancy.”

Sammi smirked. “I do what I can.”

She liked the way he seemed right at home, flopping onto her couch and sprawling his long legs in front of him. The tight feeling in her stomach and chest left, replaced by light, nervous flutters that weren’t exactly unpleasant. It was impossible to take her eyes off him; she’d always known he was good-looking, but now, a little jolt went through her each time she looked him. His lips were tantalizingly full, his strong jaw covered in a scruffy five o’clock shadow. She was mesmerized by it, and wondered what it would feel like under her fingertips.

As though he could feel the heat of her stare, Cillian’s eyes slowly rose from his dish to her. Sammi quickly averted her gaze and focused on spooning up cool, creamy yogurt, her skin flushing and her pulse quickening.

“Good yogurt.” His voice was lower than it had been before and now, she could feel his gaze on her.  His spoon clinked against the dish, and Sammi glanced up, seeing he was finished. She got to her feet just as he did and reached for the dish.

“I can take—”

The words died in her throat when he stepped close to her and took the dish from her hand, his fingers lightly brushing hers.