Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

The flight hasn’t been the smoothest, and it’s hard to concentrate on work.
Twice, when I glance up, I could swear Ren’s eyes had just gone back to his
book. And now, he busts me watching him. That pale, catlike gaze slides up
from the page it’s been tracking and locks with mine. My breath catches in my
throat.
I blink away.
What is this?
Heartburn. That’s it. I had that spicy tuna roll for dinner before we left. I rub
my chest, trying to coax away this hot, tight, burning something. Ugh. No more
tuna roll.
Dipping my head back to my computer, even after I’m forced to pack up for
descent, I don’t look up until our wheels touch down with bone-rattling
bumpiness. Until I’m safe once again, grounded to earth and reality.
Player. Employee. And “never the twain shall meet.”
Yeah. Ren’s not the only literature dork around here.
I might not hardcore jam on Shakespeare like Søren, but I like my books.
They’re one of the most vital tools in my arsenal for navigating human behavior,
to explore my feelings about the parts of life that most confuse me. Books help
me feel a bit more connected to a world that often is hard to make sense of.
Books are patient with me. They don’t laugh at me instead of with me. They
don’t ask why I’m “always” frowning, or why I can’t sit still. Books welcome
me—weirdness and all—and take me exactly as I am.
After our rough landing, we deplane and head onto the bus back to Toyota
Sports Center, our practice facility. Seated alone, I power on my phone, only to
see Annie’s text:
Worst timing ever, but I’m at the hospital. Can’t tell if it’s preterm labor or a
false alarm. I’d tell Tim to leave me here and come get you, but I think he’d
divorce me for it. I’m SO sorry. Can you call me when you land? I feel awful. I
know you don’t like Ubering this late at night.
Shit. I’m worried about Annie. And I’m worried about getting home.
Because Annie’s right. I find late-night rides alone in a taxi driven by a strange
dude nerve-wracking.
Maybe it’s the New Yorker in me, but I’m cautious about what situations I
place myself in. I have pride, yes, and I don’t like to be babied, but I am also a
practical woman. I can acknowledge that my ability to defend myself is
objectively less than a woman whose hands and feet move much more readily.
My car was acting weird before we left for St. Paul and had to go to the shop
again, so Annie and Tim offered to pick me up when I got back. My other friend
Lorena doesn’t have a car, so I can’t ask her to come instead. Which means, now