Tonight’s opened up the biggest fucking Pandora’s box for me—the one I held in secret. The one I shoved away in some dark part of my mind because I knew—know with painful certainty—that I have no chance in hell of her reciprocating my true feelings.
I head back to the bed and hope like hell she’s already asleep. When I slide back into bed, she instantly curls up at my side, taking the same position from a moment ago.
Shit. What if I’ve just fucked up the best friendship I’ve ever had and took advantage of—
“Hush.”
I stiffen in alarm. Is she talking to me? Or did she already nod off, and she’s talking in her sleep?
When she raises her head to peer at me in the darkened room, I try to gauge her reaction and come up empty.
“Hush?” I repeat, unsure.
Her lips flatten. “You’re freakin’ out.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “And you’re not?” I grind the heels of my palms to my eyes with a groan. “I just took advantage of my best friend.” God, I’m so fucked.
“Well, you’re in good company since I did the same thing,” comes her quick reply.
I drop my hands from my face to stare at her. How can she be calm about this?
“Magn—”
I’m stopped by the kiss she dusts on my lips. She offers a satisfied, sleepy smile before curling up at my side and resting an arm over my chest. Instinctively, I curl an arm around her, holding her tight to me, and drop a light kiss to the top of her hair.
Her voice slurs as if she’s already half asleep, and she whispers, “Love you, Hollis.”
The arm I have around her tightens a fraction, and I realize for the first time the words won’t come.
The sound of her steady, even breathing is a welcome relief, letting me off the hook.
Because no way in hell can I say, “But not like that.” Not this time.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to say it again.
Magnolia
I wake up in bed how I normally do: burrowed beneath the covers, from head to toe. My mother used to panic when I was little, telling me I’d suffocate.
Clearly, that never happened.
Awareness settles in, bit by bit, and I realize I’m curled up, half-lying on top of a hard, warm, very male body.
And then it hits me.
I made out with Hollis Barnes last night!
Wait, no. That’s not quite right. I dry humped him, and he showed me the world of orgasms and how magical they can be.
My cheeks heat, and a mischievous smile threatens to form until I realize the full extent of what I did last night.
I crawled on top of my best friend and rubbed myself against him. Granted, he seemed to enjoy it, but what guy wouldn’t? It doesn’t mean anything. Plus, he’s always done whatever it took to make me happy.
I admit, I let the alcohol take hold and free my inhibitions last night, but I wasn’t completely drunk. Just a little tipsy.
Then I took advantage of my best friend. The same one who saved me from a jackwagon of an ex-boyfriend. The one who’s lying here while I snuggle against his hard body, my leg thrown over his.
I groan and bury my face against his chest as mortification fills me.
What if I’ve ruined our friendship?
No. Absolutely not. I won’t allow it. I’ll set things right somehow.
“You done suffocatin’ yourself under there?” His husky voice teases me from above the covers.
“Mmm, not quite,” I murmur, the remnants of sleep still evident in my voice.
Silence hangs between us for a long moment before I finally work up the courage to speak.
“I’m sorry.” My voice is tiny and not the least bit confident. I’m a coward of epic proportions, because I’m still hiding beneath the covers.
His body goes rigid before he tentatively asks, “For what?”
“For…takin’ adva—”
I’m interrupted by the sound of a key turning in the lock seconds before I hear it swing open. I tense, but Hollis goes impossibly rigid.
“Hey, I’m just grabbin’ some stuff and headin’ back out.” Preston’s voice is tentative, almost like he’s asking Hollis for permission. He’s probably heading back to the frat house.
A part of me wonders if he hooked up after I left. Oddly enough, that idea doesn’t bother me. I just hate that I wasted so much time with him.
“Oh, whoa. Sorry. I didn’t realize you had someone over.” My ex-boyfriend’s voice is hurried and nervous. Guess he noticed the large lump beneath the covers next to Hollis.
Boy, am I glad he gathered up my clothes and put them in his closet. Although my sandals are by the door—ones I’ve worn plenty of times while Preston and I dated—but clearly, he’s not one for noticing details.
The sound of items being shoved in what I assume is some sort of backpack or duffle bag hits my ears before he tells Hollis, “I’m out of your hair till Monday.”
Hollis finally responds with a simple, “Got it.”
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until the door closes and leaves us in complete silence. Only now do I let it out with a slow whoosh.
“That was close.” His low voice sounds different. He’s probably panicked about getting caught with me here. “No doubt that would’ve been rough.”
I need to try to salvage this before I make my escape as dignified as one can when not wearing a shirt—I’d never put it back on last night. Quickly, I toss back the covers and scramble over him and off the bed. Without making eye contact, I grab my clothes from the closet and head for the bathroom, tossing over my shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as I click the door shut and lock it, I exhale slowly. The person staring back at me in the mirror looks different. Mussed hair, a faint tinge of redness around my mouth from his scruff when we kissed. Even my eyes appear a little dazed, with mascara flaking beneath them. All in all, I look like I was thoroughly ravished last night.
Can you imagine what it would’ve been like if he’d done more? If we’d gone all the way? It feels as though I have a devil perched on my shoulder whispering this.
I force myself to snap out of it and shove away those errant thoughts before I quickly dress in last night’s outfit. I’ve never done the walk of shame, and I certainly never expected to do one after a night with Hollis Barnes.
Once I’ve tidied my appearance as much as I can with limited resources, I emerge to find Hollis sitting on the bed, bare feet planted on the floor, elbows resting on his knees. He appears lost in thought with his gaze on his feet until he hears me approach. His brown eyes rise, and when they lock with mine, I can barely suppress the cringe at the uncertainty and nervousness in the depths.
He regrets last night.
Being faced with his obvious regret feels like someone’s just stabbed me in the chest. I force a smile and reach for my wristlet.
“I should get out of your hair. I want to—”
“Magnolia, I—”
We both speak at the same time, but Hollis’ cell phone interrupts us. He grimaces, looking like he resents the intrusion, but the moment he glances at the caller ID, an odd expression crosses his face.