“G’night,” she whispers, her eyes closed.
For the longest time, I can’t seem to stop staring at the sleeping beauty next to me.
Johanna
By six the following morning, the alarm wakes me, and I find I can’t move.
Surrounding me is a mammoth furnace of flesh. Muscled legs are tucked into the back of my knees, lean and defined arms are holding me against a torso that rivals that of a Greek god’s—considering what I had taken in last night after Rett’s shower—there’s a soft, warm breath feathering the fine hairs at the back of my neck. The worst part of this is the one hand stuffed under the large T-shirt I’m wearing, currently cradling my bare boob.
The moment reality hits, panic sets in.
How in the hell am I going to get out of this?
“This is nice,” I hear, followed by a nuzzle of his nose against the back of my shoulder.
Oh, my God! He’s waking up, and his hand is now massaging my tit. Tell me I’m dreaming.
“Not a dream, Jo-Babe.”
There he goes using the nickname only he uses for me, except now, just like last night, it somehow seems more intimate—like some sexy pet name.
Next thing I know, I’m left with a sense of loss as Rett pulls away, hovers over me long enough to turn the alarm clock off, then looks down at me with a sleepy smile.
“Sleep. I’ll make us some breakfast.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Then I manage, “No food.”
He kisses my forehead, then jumps out of bed with all the energy someone who slept twelve straight hours would have, puts on last night’s shorts, and says, “Trailer,” while zipping himself in, leaving me alone in his bed.
Surprisingly, despite my earlier sexy awakening, I fall asleep almost immediately after Rett leave his bedroom.
My eyes open to the sweet smell of caffeine and bacon. Rolling over, I find it’s now eight thirty-five. Rett let me sleep in.
Smiling, I hurry to the bathroom adjacent to my room to brush my teeth and nearly shriek in horror. My hair is an auburn rat’s nest on steroids! Taking care of that additional business and relieving my bladder, I don’t even bother to put my clothes on, deciding I’m going to spend the day vegging.
Walking into the kitchen, I’m greeted by a still bare-chested Rett, rubbing at his stomach while the bacon spatters away in the pan. I can’t help but laugh and shake my head as I head for the coffeepot and the mug awaiting me to fill it.
“Haven’t you learned?” I say, as I doctor up my morning fuel.
“Call me a masochist,” he retorts with a slight grin, which fades a little too quickly, his eyes scanning me for longer than his usual. Gaze returning to his current chore, he clips, “Sleep well?”
I nod, turning toward Rett and leaning against the counter beside him. I softly blow at my coffee before taking a small sip, then add, “I appreciate the few extra hours, thank you.”
Rett moves the cooked bacon onto some paper towel to absorb the extra grease and shoves the pan he was using in the empty sink, which wasn’t in that state when we called it a night yesterday.
“You did the dishes?”
“M-hmm,” he says, as he moves to open the fridge and pulls out a carton of eggs I know wasn’t in there before I left town.
“Well, thanks.”
He nods his head once. “Looks like rain.”
I turn to the window above the sink, feeling a little confused at the sudden change and abruptness of our conversation. “Yup.”
Running a hand through his hair, he’s focusing a little too intensely on cracking each egg into the pan. “Food’s almost done.”
Weird. I do not like it one bit. “Uh, huh.”
“Wanna set the table?”
“Sure.”
Rett
I fucked up. I know I did, and I’m making things worse by being short with Johanna. After all, it’s not the first time we’ve slept in the same bed together. Hell, we grew up like two peas in a pod, always in each other’s business. It was your average Dawson’s Creek episode, focusing on Dawson and Joey. Harmless. Respectful. Fun.
Not this morning though.
Waking up with my hands all over Johanna has only solidified my attraction for her. I’ve always loved her—as a friend—but for the past few years, things have shifted. I want more, and I haven’t the faintest idea as to go about doing that, or how to curb these urges and feelings of mine. Not being able to be as upfront and open with her as I’ve always been is slowly weighing on me.
One thing I know for sure is I need to apologize for behaving like a Neanderthal, even if it was only in sleep.
“You want to tell me what crawled up your ass?”
I jump with a start in my spot on the couch. For the last hour, we’ve been watching some kind of documentary on the History Network. I’m unashamed to admit that even though it was my suggestion, I’m not one bit focused on it.
“What do you mean?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
I run my hand through my disheveled hair, but avoid looking at Johanna. “I’m sorry?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t want an apology, Rett; I want to know what it is I did.”
“Absolutely nothing,” I mumble, looking down at my fidgeting hands. “It’s me.”
“Huh?”
“I said it’s—”
Her leg extends and kicks at my knee, and then she settles her foot on my lap. “I heard you, but what do you mean by that?”
I focus on her pretty pink toes and shrug, deciding to go with the truth for fear she’d call me out on my bullshit if I led with anything else. “Things are changing.”
Johanna
I’m feeling quite irritated right now, with Rett’s vague responses and the way he’s withdrawn.
“Look at me.”
He does just that, and he seems almost sad.
“Jo-Babe,” he starts with a soft smile that doesn’t fill his eyes. “I don’t know what to say here.”
“Things are changing? How? Why? What am I missing?”
He nods, then shuffles closer to me—far too close—and drapes both my legs so my knees are over his lap. “I haven’t been honest with you, Jo.”
“Okay,” I draw out nervously.
“I…” He takes a deep breath, and next thing I know, he’s grabbing my face in both his hands and pulling me to him, so his lips meet mine.
For a brief moment, everything is perfect in the world. Then feelings of confusion and fear intrude and become so overwhelming that I’m the first to pull back from what has to be the most amazing kiss I’ve ever received in my entire life.
“Rett,” I whisper with my forehead pressed to his, afraid to open my eyes.
“Fucking perfect,” he whispers back. “I knew it would be.”
My lips tug at each side. I’m thrilled he thinks the same thing I am about our kiss.
“Awesome,” I add, opening my eyes to find his gaze trapping mine.
“Aces,” he rebuts.
I giggle. “Hot.”