Second Chance Boyfriend

brother all the time because our mom sure as hell isn’t doing it.
    The only thing I can completely control is me and my reaction to my life. At this very moment, I can control only my reaction to Drew. So I sit here and wait. Wait for him to say something first, because I’m not speaking until he does. It’s his turn to make the next move.
    Despite the warning bells clanging in my head, I want him to make that first move.
    “Fable, I…” He pauses and swallows hard. “I’m not sober enough to drive you home.”
    Disappointment courses through me. There went the first move. “I’ll call a cab.” Like I can afford it, but what the hell else am I supposed to do?
    “No.” He shakes his head. “I want you to stay with me. Tonight.”
    Everything inside me screams to run far, far away. There’s also a tiny part of me that says I should stay. Crash out on his couch and wake up the next morning refreshed after spending the night in the same house with the one I love. We won’t do anything. Maybe we’ll talk. Maybe I’ll get him to confess why he asked me to rescue him with that beautiful, tragic note, then refused to answer my texts or voice mails.
    Yes, I still want an answer in regard to that particular fiasco.
    “I shouldn’t,” I whisper.
    “Please.” He clears his throat. “Nothing will happen. I promise.”
    I close my eyes, my thoughts and my wants conflicted. I’m at war with myself and I hate it. Maybe I want something to happen. Maybe I want to have outrageous, dirty, mind-blowing sex with Drew Callahan. But his words, his gentlemanly ways might overrule him. The guy is downright chivalrous.
    I really don’t want chivalry tonight. I want comfort. Passion. I crave what Drew can give me. Delicious hot kisses, unbelievable pleasure…
    “We can talk.” He reaches out and settles his hand on my arm. His palm is warm, his fingers slightly rough as they stroke my skin, and instantly my body reacts. I’m all tingly and my heart rate has kicked up. I think of how Colin touched me earlier and nothing happened.
    I think of how Drew merely looks at me and I immediately want to shed my clothes and bare my very soul to him.
    “Talk about what?”
    “I need to tell you what’s…what’s going on.” He squeezes my arm and I squeeze my eyes shut, overwhelmed with sensation. God, his touch feels so good. “I need to apologize for the shitty way I treated you.”
    An apology is a start in the positive direction. I might be fooling myself but I want to hear what he has to say. I need an explanation. “Okay. I’d love to hear an apology from you.”
    “Are you going to make me say it now?”
    “For the first one, yes.” I nod.
    “There’s going to be more than one?”
    I glance in his direction to see he’s teasing me. And it’s sort of cute, the way he’s looking at me, the smile on his face. “Definitely,” I say with another nod. “I want the first one now. Before we leave the truck.”
    He schools his expression, looking incredibly solemn and serious. “Fable. I’m sorry.” He lifts my hand and brushes a kiss across my knuckles.
    His mouth on my skin leaves me weak-kneed and I’m not even standing. The playful way he’s acting doesn’t help matters either. I need to remember he’s drunk. He’s not in the right state of mind.
    “Now, come inside with me. I won’t try anything, I promise.” He makes an X at the center of his chest with his index finger. “Scout’s honor.”
    “Were you really a scout?”
    “No.” He smiles. “But you can trust me.”
    I know I can. I both want him to give me space so I can absorb everything that’s happened tonight and I also want him all over me. I’m confused.
    This is what he does to me every time we’re together.
    We get out of the truck and I follow him across the parking lot without protest. Let him guide me to his front door without a word, though I can feel his presence behind me. I inhale sharply when he sets his hand low on my back to steer me in the right direction.
    He doesn’t remove his hand either until we get to the front door. Like he needs that connection.
    I need it too.
    When he unlocks the door, he indicates for me to walk in first and I enter his quiet, dark apartment. He flicks on a light, revealing a room devoid of anything beyond a couch, a matching chair and a flat-screen TV. There are no pictures, no knickknacks, no mess. Nothing beyond the basic essentials.
    The room lacks warmth. Like no one real lives