“Think Scarlett has been able to pull herself together?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Most likely she’s still incapacitated.” I turn toward Lincoln and give him a soft smile. “Thanks again for today.”
“Anytime, Mayhem. Just say the word.” He winks, and I unbuckle my seatbelt.
It’s one of those moments where you’re not really sure what to do. We’re friends, so friends don’t kiss goodbye, even though this friend would like to know what that friend’s lips taste like. But just leaving feels weird too, so I lean over the console and hold my arm out. He brings me in close, hugs me, and I feel his lips press against my head. It’s sweet, not sexual at all—definitely comforting—and when we pull away, Lincoln grips my chin like he has before and says, “See you tomorrow, Indie.”
I gulp, his face so close, his eyes trained on me. “See you tomorrow, Lincoln.”
I don’t want to leave. Spending time with Lincoln has been easy.
Well, except when he was stroking my neck and shoulders. God, I wanted to mount him. Have those fingers caressing other parts of my body. Because Lincoln’s words have rattled around in my mind since he said them. I was jealous that Deacon was holding you and touching you, and I know I have no right to be jealous.
Why didn’t I push for more then? Why didn’t I ask what he wants instead? Probably because I’m not entirely sure what I want.
Before I can do something stupid, I hop out of his car and make my way inside. I shut the door and then lean against it, my dirty clothes clutched to my chest, my mind reeling with confusion and excitement.
“About time you came home,” Scarlett says, startling the crap out of me.
Lounging on the couch, she’s sporting a pair of sunglasses for God knows what reason and wearing nothing but the shirt she borrowed from Hutton . . . and hopefully underwear. I pray she’s wearing underwear. At least she’s showered, which is a relief since Hutton’s tongue traveled all over her body last night and probably early this morning.
“Jesus, you scared me.”
Tipping her sunglasses down, she studies me and says, “Were you just daydreaming about Lincoln?”
“What? No.” Maybe a little. “I wasn’t expecting you to be on the couch. I thought you’d be sleeping off your fuck fest with Hutton.”
“I tried, but it was as if his dick energized me.” She waves her hand around the apartment. “I scrubbed every inch of this place and organized both our closets. You have some pretty ugly tops, so we’re going to need to filter those out.”
I take in the apartment and notice a fresh lemony smell. There doesn’t seem to be anything lying around like shoes or papers. It actually looks really good in here, which can only mean one thing . . .
“Oh my God, you like Hutton.” I walk over to the couch and set my clothes on the coffee table. “You like him, like him. The only time you clean like this is when you need to think, and you just so happened to do it after spending the night with Hutton.” I poke her but she doesn’t move, just stares at the muted TV. “You like him.”
“He’s okay,” she answers nonchalantly. “He is quite talented with his penis though, I’ll give him that. Just what the doctor ordered.”
“Scarlett, I’m being serious. You like him.”
She shrugs and adjusts her glasses. “Tell me about your night.” And that’s all I’m going to get out of her. Some girls are dying to spill their guts to their bestie straight after a significant moment. But not Scarlett. When she shuts down, there’s no way to get anything out of her. And right now? That’s where we’re at. “What’s going on with Lincoln?”
“Nothing, really. We just hung out.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“We slept in the same bed, but we didn’t do anything.”
“Not even a kiss, or a grab of his dick?”
“Nothing.”
She tsks. “Shame. Missed opportunity, boo.” She pats my leg. “Did you hear me and Hutton?”
“No, why, were you loud?”
“Oh yeah.” She smiles. “He had me up against the wall at one point, and I swear I came from feeling my nipples graze the wall. He’s . . . something else.”
“Talk about daydreaming.” I shove her and she just smiles.
“Well, not that it matters. The guy is a whore and we have nothing in common. He’ll be good for a night here and there.” She looks off to the side, her lips twisting together, and I wonder what she’s not telling me. There has to be more if she spent all day cleaning and organizing. Did he say something to her last night? Something that might have scared her?
I want to ask but I also know I won’t get a straight answer, so instead, I say, “Did you see Asher with that girl in the yellow dress last night?”
“Briefly. She was really pretty. Had this whole Jessica Day vibe that I was digging.”
“Asher was digging it too, because she stumbled downstairs right before you did.”
“What?” Scarlett clenches her fist. “Damn it. I hate that I missed it. Did she say anything to you?”
I shake my head. “No, not really. She blushed so hard though, it was endearing.”
“I like her already. How cute would it be if Asher fell in love? The silent, shy guy finds a girl in a yellow dress at a party. Ugh, romance.”
I lean back on the couch and take Scarlett’s hand in mine. We both stare at the silent TV. “It was a good party. I’m glad I went.”
“Me too,” Scarlett says wistfully. “It was the perfect party.”
“Good morning, Mayhem.” Lincoln’s voice trails up the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to pop up on my arm. From behind me, he reaches his arm around and hands me a coffee. “Here you go.”
I turn around and sigh as I take in his dark jeans and tight white shirt. Freaking handsome. His hair is styled and he has the lightest scruff on his jaw, giving him a dark, sultry look this morning. Desire rushes through my veins and before I can stop myself, I bring my arm around him and press my head to his chest, giving him a much-needed hug. When his arm encases me, warmth spreads through me and flows furiously through every one of my limbs, making me feel light on my feet. Okay, so it was much-needed hug for me.
Yup. I really needed this.
“Good morning.”
When I look up at him, he smiles and tugs on my ponytail. “That’s a greeting I enjoy.”
When I part from him, I hold up my coffee and say, “Thank you for this.”
“I also got us a cinnamon bun that we can share before class.” He checks his phone. “We have ten minutes, want to sit?”
“Sure.” We take a seat at a bench right outside the lecture hall. A few guys pass us and give Lincoln a bro shake but thankfully leave us in peace.
“Only got one fork, so I hope you don’t mind sharing.”
“I think I can handle it.”
From his backpack, he pulls out a to-go box from the dining hall and pops the top open to reveal a massive cinnamon bun. Holding the fork out to me, he says, “You can have the first bite.”
“Are you buttering me up for a reason, Castle?” I sink the fork in the gooey pastry and then bring the fork to my mouth, letting my lips slide over the tines, taking all the icing with me. “Ugh, this is so good. Did you get it from Lakeview?”