Always Alone | ✓

Chapter Seventeen

THE REST OF the week passes by in a blur and on Saturday evening, I'm home in my pajamas listening to KLOVE as I go over lesson plans and grade papers. I note my students' reading scores have improved tremendously thanks to the peer/buddy system.

Not the A's I was hoping for, but the F's are turning to high C's and the C's are rising to B's. To me, that's a huge improvement from before and I make a mental note to tell the kids how proud I am of them.

"You really should lock your balcony door." I jump out of the dining chair at the voice.

"Wh—" I can't finish my sentence as I feel my body pumping adrenaline into my heart, looking for a defense mechanism.

Devin walks closer to me and I stare at Angie who didn't let out one sound even though she saw him trespassing the balcony and enter our home. Wait till I tell Dad of the grandiose spy moves she uses to scare robbers away.

"Dev, you can't do that," I say as he hoists me up by the waist and settles me on the kitchen counter.

"Do what, visit my girlfriend?" he asks, bending his head to nuzzle my neck. The tickling touch sends energized waves through my body.

"Jump over the balcony and slide the door."

"I knocked on the front door," he says and kisses me sweetly on the lips. The kiss ends too soon for my liking. "You didn't answer so I came around to see if you were home."

"Text next time." I wrap my arms around his neck and drag his lips to mine, kissing him softly, increasing the pressure.

"If you keep kissing me like that—" he takes a deep breath and continues, "—the food is going to burn."

"Food?"

"Yeah." He lifts me off the counter and plants my feet on the floor. "I made lasagna."

"You did?" I ask, my mouth already watering.

"Yep. I thought my girlfriend should have a home-cooked meal, instead of all the frozen food in her fridge." He swats my butt, making me surge forward. "Come on."

Sticking my tongue out to Angie, I turn and lock the front door before jogging up the stairs and into Devin's apartment.

The smell of tomato sauce and ricotta cheese with fresh basil leaves caresses my nose as Devin leads me inside. I didn't notice it before, I guess my anger had blinded me that day, but the décor around the house is a mix of rustic and retro; very manly.

The brown couches make the blue area rug in the center of the room stand out. My eyes shift to the floor to ceiling wooden bookshelf filled with intriguing books that have me walking to it, wondering what type of books he enjoys.

"You read?" I ask, brushing my fingers on the spine of the books. He has more books than me; there's not one empty spot.

"No." He kisses the tip of my nose. "Those are journals," he says, taking my hand and guiding me to the dining room where the lights are dimmed and a table holds lit candles and a vase with white and red roses.

Pure love.

The meaning behind the colors—whether intentionally or subconsciously—makes me dizzy and my heart smiles at the thought that I'm not the only one who feels our connection.

"Wow," it's all I manage to say as my eyes turn glossy with happiness. I thought this only happened in the movies or overly cliched books. It's surreal to know he did this for me just because.

And I begin to fall, not bothering to secure myself—my heart, with a parachute to slow the motion. Not caring if the strings aren't strong enough to hold me back.