“Everything okay?” Theo asks.
“Uh, yeah.” I fold my arms over my bra, and he hands me his shirt since, apparently, mine is still missing.
As I slip it over my head, he suggests, “I can kick everyone out. We can watch a movie––”
“I can’t,” I lie as my head pops through the neckline. Although, I guess it isn’t entirely false. I’m not sure my emotions can stick around after the night I’ve had. I need to clear my head. I need to remind myself of the parameters of my relationship––or lack thereof––with Theo. Because I’m not naive enough to think sex automatically means a relationship. Especially not with the man of the hour. I know this. But knowing it and feeling it are two very different things. I need…a minute. Or an hour. Or a lifetime. Not that I’ll get it. Theo is Colt’s best friend. He isn’t going anywhere. Not in the long run.
Ooo, a run.
A run sounds good. That’s what I need. I need a solid run. Yeah. A solid run sounds perfect, actually. Abso-freaking-lutely perfect.
“You okay?” Theo asks, eyeing me carefully. Like he wants to know what I’m thinking. Like he wants to hold me again. To quiet my racing thoughts.
Does he look at every girl this way after he’s had sex?
Not that I care. Because I don’t. Nope. I’m just peachy. Hell, I’m better than peachy. I just had incredible sex. Sex most girls would dream about. And I wasn’t an idiot when I asked him to sleep with me. I knew the deal. I understood the terms. He doesn’t get attached. So neither should I.
I nod, my head bobbing up and down. “Yup. Just great. Thanks for…taking one for the team.” I force a smile, pick up my shoes from the ground, and head toward the door. “I’ll see you around.”
“Blake…”
I slip out of the bedroom before he has a chance to stop me and make my way upstairs. I can feel people’s eyes on me. Probably because my shoes are dangling from my fingers, but what do I know? Maybe people have a weird sixth sense when they’re exposed to someone who recently lost their virginity. Maybe it’s why they’re staring. I don’t know? Anything’s possible, right?
Thankfully, Burrows isn’t around as I sneak through the house and toward the front door. The cool concrete feels good against my bare feet. Refreshing almost. Cathartic. Like I’m alive. Like I’m not caught in a dream world where the love of my life is my brother’s best friend, and he didn’t just take my virginity because I twisted his arm, but because he wanted it. He wanted to be my one and only. The same way I’ve always wanted him to be.
Which is a freaking joke when I really think about it. I’m not entirely delusional. It’s Theo Taylor. The skanky, one-and-done hockey captain we all know and love. He only slept with me because I backed him into a corner. Tomorrow, he’ll act like it didn’t even happen.
And so will I.
Dodging between cars parked along the road, I head toward home. And once I’ve rounded the corner, I slip my shoes on, grateful I’d chosen a pair of white Nikes, and run along the dark street, soaking up the solitude. The endorphins. My lungs expanding and retracting in rhythm to my footsteps. And the promise that tomorrow’s another day.
I can do hard things.
Even if it includes facing the guy who took my virginity with zero intention of claiming my heart with it.
Yup. Piece of cake.
Cool.
Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.
19
BLAKELY
With my feet tucked under my ass, I sip cinnamon tea from my mug. The dark settles around me like a warm blanket as the silence in the quiet house engulfs the space.
It’s peaceful.
Comforting almost.
Which is a stark contrast to the chaos inside my head.
I can’t sleep.
I can still feel the ache between my thighs.
Every time I move, my muscles twinge slightly.
It’s evidence, I guess.
I didn’t make it up.
I didn’t imagine it.
It was real.
It actually happened.
I had sex with Theodore Taylor.
And I have no idea how I’m going to look him in the eye ever again.
Keys jingle on the opposite side of the front door. The lock turns, and the hinges squeak lightly as Mia comes into view.
When she sees me on the couch, she flinches and clutches at her chest, her eyes wide with surprise.
“It’s me,” I rush out.
Her shoulders relax almost instantly, and she drops her arm to her side, giving me a tired smile. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey. Sorry if I scared––”
“You’re fine.” She locks the front door behind her, then faces me again. “What are you still doing awake? It’s late.”
“Or early,” I counter.
She nods, hooking the strap of her purse on the coat rack next to the front door.
“How was work?” I ask.
“Good. Long,” she clarifies,”but good.”
“That’s good.” I clear my throat and sip a little more tea.
Sensing something’s off, Mia rounds the edge of the couch and tilts her head, eyeing me warily. “You okay?”
“Yup.”
“You sure?”
“Yup,” I repeat.
Her gaze narrows. Then, she sighs and collapses onto the worn cushion next to me. “Okay, what happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Dude.” She pauses, giving me a look that would make my own mother proud. “I’m tired. I just got off my shift––”
“Then go to bed,” I offer. The words aren’t sharp. They’re…defeated. And laced with the same exhaustion painted on Mia’s tired face.
She frowns and touches my knee. “Not what I meant. Come on. Tell me what’s bugging you.”
“Nothing’s bugging me. I just can’t sleep.”
“You know you’re allowed to like…feel stuff, right?” she asks.
“What?” I laugh.
“I mean…” She pauses and tries again. “You’re allowed to feel stuff. You’re allowed to talk about it. It doesn’t make you a bitch or a gossiper to express yourself.”
I pull back, surprised. “Where is this coming from?”
“You’re allowed to tell people what’s on your mind. You don’t have to bottle it up or shove it down like most guys do.”
“Who says I’m bottling anything up?”
She arches her brow, daring me to argue with her.
And dammit. The girl has a point.
Pursing my lips, I take another sip of cinnamon tea and let out a groan. “Fiiiine. I’m bottling shit up because it’s not a big deal. Nothing’s bothering me. Well”––I press the brim of the cup to my lips again, then pause––“other than the usual.”
“Theo?” she assumes.
I dip my chin and take another sip of tea. The liquid is almost cool now, like the memory of Theo’s kisses, but I drink it down anyway.
“What happened?” Mia prods.
Memories of Theo’s hands on my body rise to the surface, and my face heats up like a sinner in church.