Billionaires Dollar Series

Even mangled through the bad reception of the intercom, the gravelly texture of it raises goose bumps on my arms.

“Yes. It just arrived.”

“Good.” A pause. “Can I come up?”

I look around my space, at the packaging, the clothes on the back of the couch. At my own lackluster outfit.

“Yes.” There’s really no other possible answer to that question.

I know exactly how long it takes a person to get from the bottom of my building to the top, if the elevator is there waiting for them. It’s about seventeen seconds.

Seventeen seconds to look myself in the mirror and realize that I need to run a brush through my hair. I apply Chapstick while I’m at it, shoving the hamper with dirty laundry into the corner of the bathroom, and shutting the door firmly to my office.

That’s all I have time for, because then there’s a knock on my front door and there he is. It’s only been a week, and still, the sheer size of him hits me again. Tall and broad and intimidating.

Nick doesn’t speak. He just looks at the giant quote, unveiled on my living-room floor, his hands flexing at his sides.

“I didn’t think it’d be that big,” he says finally.

I wrap my arms around myself. “It’s lovely.”

He nods. “How have you been?”

“Since we last spoke?” It’s a stupid question, because what else would he mean, but it slips out anyway, perhaps in lieu of the roughly four thousand other questions I want to ask. Why did you push me away? Why are you here? Why haven’t you called?

“Good. I’ve been working.” I look away from his face to the quote on the floor. It seems like it’s easier to face for the both of us than each other. “I’ve heard that you and Cole aren’t really speaking.”

A twist of his mouth. “No, not really.”

“I’m sorry about that. That what we did affected your friendship. I never meant it to.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not something you should apologize for.”

“Blair, I…” He turns to me, running a hand over his hair. “What I said to you last time, in the office…”

He shakes his head again. “I was afraid,” he says. “Why is that so hard to say, damn it? I was afraid.”

My hands itch again with the desire to touch him, to reach for his hand, to slip my arm through his. I don’t. “You were?”

“Yes. I do push people away. I have forever. It’s usually better that way.” He looks away from me, moving restlessly from side to side. “And with you… I’m bound to fuck up in one way or another, Blair. We both know that. It was safer to do it earlier rather than later. Less damage that way.”

I bite my lip to hide the hints of a smile. “What if you don’t fuck up?”

He shoots me an exasperated look, and I hold up my hands. “All right, all right. Let’s say that you will.”

“Yeah. And you… being with you would never be just something. It would be everything. You’re that kind of woman.”

“I-”

“Yes, you are,” he says darkly, almost accusingly, and I close my mouth. “You deserve nothing less. And I don’t know if I can be conventional. If I can do the parties and the photos and the mingling. But I want to try.”

“Try what, exactly?”

“Dating. You and me. This.” He extends a hand from me to himself, as if the chemistry between us was a visible thing. I suppose it almost has been, clear from the very beginning. “If you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll have you?” I’m stuck in the incredulity phase. The agitated, passionate Nick in front of me is one I’ve never seen before.

“Yes, if you’ll have me,” he repeats. “Despite the fact that it’ll mar your public reputation. Damn it, Blair… do you know why I pushed you away for all those years?”

“Self-preservation,” I whisper. My body still feels shell-shocked by the words I’ve wanted to hear from him forever, and here they all are, pouring out like a flash flood, changing the landscape irrevocably.

“It was.” Nick steps closer, a large hand reaching up to tip back my head. His dark eyes are soft now, even if tension lingers on his features. “If you’d have been nice to me, if we’d been friends… I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from trying to get closer.”

“I would have let you,” I murmur.

He closes his eyes, like the words bring him pain. “I suspected as much,” he mutters. “Good thing I stayed away.”

My hands come up to grip his jacket. “Why?”

“I would have fucked it up,” he says, “and far worse than I have this time around.”

I reach up on my tiptoes and put my arms around his neck. He leans into my touch, his eyes closing again, our foreheads touching. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk this much in one go,” I murmur.

He snorts. “The monologue is over now.”

“It was very enlightening.”All content is © N0velDrama.Org.

“Was it?”

“Good. That was the intention.”

I slide my hand down to thread my fingers through his and pull him to my couch. He sinks down beside me. “But I don’t understand one part.”

“Which one?”

I lean back against the pillows and settle my legs over his. His hand reaches out to grip my thigh, like the contact is just as important to the both of us.

“Why were you afraid of coming close? Why did pushing me away feel safer?”

He plays with the side-hem of my trousers. “Is this a therapist’s couch?”

“It could be,” I say, aiming for teasing. “Lean back and let me ask the questions.”

His lip curls slightly. “I’m not sure I could handle that.”

“You’re right. There are too many pillows on this couch. They’d only distract you.”

“They definitely would.” His fingers trail up my thigh, and even through the fabric, the warmth of his skin sends shivers through me.