Chapter 9

Patrick caught himself in time and snapped back into reality. He took the rose that was still in his hands and placed it on my lap.

“I better go. Promise me you will at least think about it.”

“I will, I promise.”

I was still on the couch when Javi showed up ten minutes later, his white tank top clinging to his sweat-drenched muscles. If he had arrived at any other moment I would have jumped his bones right there on the couch. But after what Patrick had just said, it wasn’t the right time.

* * * *

A break. I cannot believe Javi had used those exact words. What were we, on TV? The moment he saw the rose on my table, he began to fume, and any sympathy for Patrick pretty much flew out the window. I didn’t blame him; if the situation had been reversed, I probably wouldn’t have been too pleased either. But I wouldn’t have suggested a break.