Loving A Moretti - THE OBSESSION

Chapter FOURTEEN

I didn’t see Larkin for four days.

That shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did.

Before him, four days was nothing. I could spend that long buried in work, cancel plans twice, forget to answer messages and still consider the week normal. Lately, though, I had started noticing the spaces where he could have been. The bookstore looked different when I passed it. I caught myself glancing toward the bakery even though I had no reason to go there. Once, I walked an entire block before realizing I had taken the longer route without thinking about it.

Jennie noticed, of course. She didn’t say anything.

That was almost worse.

By Friday afternoon, I had convinced myself I was being ridiculous. I had known Larkin for a little over a week. We had talked a handful of times. I knew what kind of coffee he drank, that he hated raisins, that he worked in finance and that he had an annoying habit of looking amused whenever I said something he found interesting.

That was enough information to develop a crush.

Apparently.

I was carrying a paper bag of takeout through the lobby when I saw him standing near the mailboxes.

He had his phone in one hand and was reading something on the screen, his attention somewhere else entirely. Dark jacket, sleeves pushed up slightly, hair messier than usual. He looked comfortable there, completely unaware of me.

Then he looked up.

His eyes found mine almost immediately.

The change in his expression was so quick that I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching. His thumb stopped against the screen, his shoulders straightened, and for a second he looked like he’d forgotten why he was holding the phone.

I smiled.

He slipped the phone into his pocket. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I adjusted the bag against my hip and looked around the lobby. “What are you doing here?”

“I was meeting someone nearby.”

“Nearby where?”

He gestured vaguely toward the doors. “A few blocks away.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s impressively specific.”

“You asked how nearby.”

“I was expecting an actual answer.”

A small smile pulled at his mouth. “You didn’t ask for an address.”

I laughed. “Fair.”

For a moment neither of us moved. The lobby doors opened behind me, letting in a burst of warm air and the sound of traffic outside. I looked down at the takeout bag, then back at him. “Are you busy now?”

Larkin seemed to think about the question before answering. “No.”

“Good.”

I walked toward the doors.

He followed.

We ended up heading down the avenue without discussing where we were going. I told myself I was only walking because I didn’t feel like eating alone, which was technically true. I didn’t mention that I had been hoping to see him.

The bag in my hand shifted as I walked, and Larkin glanced at it.

“What did you get?”

“Thai food.”

“From the place on the corner?”

I looked at him. “You’ve been there?”

“Once.” He shrugged. “It was fine.”

“That’s a very strong review.”

“You asked.”

I laughed. “You’re very committed to technically answering questions.”

“I try,” he said, and the corner of his mouth lifted.

We crossed at the next light, moving with the crowd. A cyclist passed too close to the curb, and I stepped toward Larkin without thinking. His hand briefly touched the back of my arm as he steadied me.

It lasted barely a second. He dropped his hand immediately.

I looked at him. He was already looking at me. Neither of us mentioned it.

A few minutes later, I stopped outside a record store I had passed plenty of times without going inside. The front window was filled with old album covers, and one of them caught my attention.

Larkin stopped beside me and followed my gaze toward the records in the window. “You like vinyl?”

“I like music.”

“That’s different.”

I turned toward him. “How?”

“You can like music without collecting physical copies.”

“I don’t collect them.”

His eyebrows lifted, and I caught the look before adding, “Yet.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him. I pushed the door open, holding it for him as we stepped inside.

The store was narrow and crowded, with shelves packed tightly enough that we had to move around each other whenever another customer passed. Something old played through the speakers near the counter, and the whole place smelled faintly of cardboard and dust.

I wandered through the shelves while Larkin followed at an easy distance. We didn’t need to keep talking. Every so often I pulled out a record and showed it to him, and he either knew it or admitted he didn’t.

When I reached for one near the top shelf, my fingertips barely touched the edge.

Larkin noticed and reached over me.

“Here.”

He pulled it down and held it out.

I took it from him, our fingers brushing against the edge of the sleeve. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I looked down at the record, then back at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You made a face.”

“I did not.”

“You did.” I laughed when he tried to look innocent and returned the record to the shelf.

We stayed another ten minutes before leaving.

Outside, the sun had started to lower between the buildings. The sidewalks were still crowded, but the afternoon rush had begun to thin. We walked slowly, neither of us seeming particularly interested in getting somewhere.

Eventually, Larkin glanced over at me. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

I looked ahead for a moment, considering whether I actually wanted to answer. Then I glanced at him. “You.”

He slowed beside me.

I took another step before realizing he wasn’t beside me anymore. When I turned around, he was watching me with an expression that made my stomach tighten.

“What?” I asked.

His gaze dropped briefly to the sidewalk before returning to mine. “You said you were thinking about me.”

“I did.”

“That’s dangerous information.”

I smiled at him. “Why?”

“Because now I’ll think about it.”

“Maybe I want you to.”

He held my gaze for a second, like he was trying to figure out whether I meant it. Whatever he saw seemed to settle something in him. He stepped closer.

It wasn’t sudden. He gave me enough time to understand what he was doing, enough time to move if I wanted to. When he stopped in front of me, there was still a small space between us.

His hand lifted and paused near my face.

I could see the question in his expression. So I closed the distance myself.

His fingers settled against my cheek as I leaned in, and when his mouth touched mine, the whole thing was softer than I expected.

I kissed him back.

His hand moved gently along my jaw, and he tilted his head as he kissed me again. I caught the front of his jacket without thinking, pulling him closer when he started to ease away.

That made him stop. His eyes opened, and mine did too. For a second, we simply looked at each other, close enough that I could feel his breath against my skin.

I was the one who leaned in again.

The second kiss lasted longer.

His other hand settled lightly at my waist, careful enough that I could have stepped away without resistance. I felt the warmth of his palm through my shirt and tightened my fingers against his jacket.

The city kept moving around us. Cars passed at the intersection, people walked by, someone called to a friend from across the street. None of it seemed important enough to make me pull away.

When we finally separated, Larkin stayed close.

I could feel his breath against my cheek.

I smiled when I noticed the color in his face.

“You’re blushing.”

He closed his eyes briefly and looked away. “I’m aware.”

I laughed.

He gave me a look, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

“You could pretend otherwise.”

“I could.” I was still smiling, which probably ruined whatever defense I was trying to make.

“But you won’t.”

I shook my head. “Probably not.”

His expression softened, and he looked at me for another moment before letting his hand fall from my waist.

I missed the warmth immediately.

That realization caught me off guard.

He must have noticed something change in my face because he waited before moving. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He gave me a small nod, and we started walking again. Our hands brushed once, then again a few steps later. By the third time, I stopped pretending it was accidental.

I reached for his hand. Larkin looked down at our joined hands, then at me.

I pretended not to notice the smile that appeared on his face.

“You can stop looking so surprised,” I said.

“I’m trying.”

“You’re doing a bad job.”

“I’ve noticed.”

I squeezed his hand., he squeezed back. We walked another block before I finally looked at the time.

“I should go.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

There was no disappointment in his voice, no attempt to convince me to stay longer.

I liked that.

At the corner, I turned toward my street while he continued in the opposite direction. Neither of us said anything for a moment. Then I looked back.

Larkin was already watching me. I smiled.

“Bye, Larkin.”

“Bye, Isabelle.”

I walked away before I could change my mind and turn around again. I made it half a block before I realized I was smiling. That was going to be a problem.