I smile.
“How are you feeling?” I grab a mug out of the cabinet and pour him a coffee.
“Stupid, hungover, embarrassed. Want me to keep going?”
I chuckle. “I get the idea.”
He makes his way over. “I’m sorry. Whatever happened last night, I’m an idiot.”
Disappointment tugs at my heart.
“You don’t remember?” I hand him his coffee.
“Not a thing. It’s all a big blur.”
There goes his love declaration.
In contrast to the first time he pulled that amnesia prank on me, I actually believe him. He could barely walk last night. And the things he shared… he would’ve never told me had he been sober.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” I ask.
“I remember Alex and I sneaking into a bar. Your text.”
That damn text.
If I’d known how he would react, I would’ve never sent it.
“Then we got blackout drunk and… I’m guessing if Alex had to call you to come get my ass, I did something stupid?”
“Do you really want to know?”
He exhales. “Lay it on me.”
“You may have gotten into a fight or two.”
“And?” He knows there’s more.
“And almost gotten arrested,” I cave.
He cringes.
“Well, thanks for saving me, control freak.”
“Anytime, Willy.”
This is weird.
How he was kissing the breath out of me just last night, telling me how much he needs me, and now… I don’t have a clue as to where we stand. Is he still mad at me? Are we still on the outs?
“Nice hoodie, by the way.” He gestures.
I flush in realization.
It’s his.
I wear it to sleep every night lately.
I fiddle with the fabric. “Oh, right. Did you want it back?”
Please say no.
“Depends…” He eyes my lips. “Do I get you back, too?”
My heart flutters.
“I—”
“Don’t talk to me. I need coffee.” Morgan comes streaming through the door the next second.
A shirtless Alex follows close behind. Chasing after her.
“Morgan, wait. Hear me out, please,” Alex begs, his green eyes small from having just woken up.
Weren’t these two cuddling two minutes ago? What did the poor bastard do in two minutes?
“Just go, okay? It’s too early for this, and I’m tutoring in forty-five minutes.” Morgan acts unfazed, but I see right through her.
She’s hurt.
“Not happening. Either you listen to me, or I’m camping on your goddamn porch until you do.”
Morgan stares at him, calling his bluff.
“Don’t test me, James. I’ll go buy a tent right now,” he warns.
I can’t help grinning at his threat. Even when they’re fighting, I’m rooting for them. Will clears his throat as a reminder that they have an audience, and Morgan sighs.
“Five minutes. Outside,” she says.
Alex’s shoulders drop in relief. He directs Morgan to the balcony, shutting the door on his way out and leaving me alone with Will. My hopes of picking up where we left off are shattered by my phone buzzing in my pocket.
It’s the alarm I set last night.
Work at 11:30, it says.
“Shit, I have to be at work in an hour. I need a shower. Talk later?” I hurry up the stairs without awaiting his reply. I want nothing more than to mend my broken relationship, but I’d also like to keep my job.
I scurry inside Morgan’s bedroom, kneeling down on the hardwood floor and shuffling through my overnight bag for an outfit. Then I jog down the stairs, a tad disappointed when I zoom by the kitchen and see that Will is gone. I rush into the first-floor bathroom, turn the shower on, and tug Will’s large hoodie over my head.
A voice flares behind me.
“Not that I’m not enjoying the show, but…”
I nearly scream and spin on my heels to find Will leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest—thank God for my T-shirt. One more second and he would’ve seen everything.
“Will? What the fuck?” I shriek.
He smirks, blue eyes raking over my body unapologetically. He’s casual, relaxed, like sneaking into Morgan’s bathroom and surprising me mid-stripping is a walk in the park to him.
“I thought you left.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“We weren’t done talking.” He pushes off the wall, stalking toward me with that carnal look in his eyes.
I know that look.
Normally, I’d love that look.
Especially seeing as I’m dying to make things right between us, but I can’t do this right now. I can’t be late to work. I step backward, which only incites him to move closer.
“Now, where were we?” He stops to think. “Right, I was about to do this.”
He shocks me with a desperate, needy kiss, cupping my face and sealing our opened scars with a single move. His lips rain down on mine, dispatching shivers all over my body. I’m not going to pretend I don’t kiss him back. Or that I put up the semblance of a fight—I don’t. I allow his tongue into my mouth, welcome it, and lose myself into his arms, this kiss, this moment.
I lose myself, trying to find him.
An oxygen shortage tears us apart, and I’m left with nothing but the aftermath of his touch: a racing heart, erratic breathing.
This lust.
And one burning question.
“Does that mean you forgive me?” I clasp his shirt into my fist, drawing a long, conflicted breath out of him.
He nods.
“I forgive you.”
I smile, over the moon.
He presses his forehead to mine. “What you did was fucked-up, but I can’t blame you for wanting to know more about me. I haven’t exactly been an open book, and… frankly, if I’d received a text saying you were staying at some motel, I would’ve gone and checked, too.”
His admission relieves me.
Is he finally ready to open up to me?
“In that case, I have questions.”
He sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets.
“I figured you would. Which is why I got Ethan to cover your shift.”
“What?” I pull back. “How?”
Ethan hates working on weekends. Will must’ve spun him one hell of a tale.
“Told him you were feeding the homeless, which, in a way, you are.”
What on earth?
“Come on, hop in the shower, put on something pretty. I have to go get my car. Pick you up in an hour.” He dashes toward the exit.
“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what we’re doing?”
I watch him swing the door open, dumbfounded.
“You wanted to see my life, didn’t you?”
He shoulder-checks me.
“Well, I’m taking you right into it.”
Kassidy
Will briefs me on our plans for the day halfway to our secret destination. Turns out when he told me we were feeding the homeless, he meant…
Having lunch with his mom.
I scold him for his crude comparison, swatting him in the arm and kindling the following reply: “Trust me, if I didn’t laugh about it, I wouldn’t last a day.”