Pinching the zipper, I tug it down farther, until the only thing holding it up is the tight fabric around her hips and the straps hanging loosely around her elbows. Her hand reflexively shoots up to hold the dress against her chest.
“I don’t want Jonas to get hurt.” She looks at me over her shoulder, eyes shiny and glimmering from unshed tears.
“Me neither,” I say through gritted teeth. “I wouldn’t…Even if you and I didn’t work out. I wouldn’t stop being there when he needs me.”
Whit’s thick curtain of hair falls from its perch on her left shoulder when she shakes her head no. “That’s not your responsibility.”
No, it’s not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to be.
“I hate to break it to you…” The zipper hits bottom, and so does my resolve. Slipping under the fabric, I grab her warm body and spin her to face me. I wait until I have those pretty eyes on me before I break the news. “Jonas and I were friends before you came into the picture. He’s my buddy. My boy. That doesn’t stop even if you wake up and decide you’re tired of my dorky T-shirts, or you start thinking my mustache looks more like Hulk Hogan and less like Riley Green.”
I know I said it was chill if she breaks my heart, but I’m standing here with it clocking one hundred miles per hour waiting for confirmation that we cantry. If I lose her, I’m abso-fucking-lutely done for.
“I don’t know….” She licks her lips, that crease between her eyebrows deepening.
“We’ll take it slow. Won’t get Jonas involved until you feel ready.”
“I j-just…” She yawns, loud and long. “I can’t think right now.”
“Sorry, I was getting ahead of myself.” With a fragile smile of surrender, I let her slip out of reach. “Get your pajamas on. We’ve got plenty of time to talk about this after some sleep.”
My stare follows her across the lamp-lit room, where herlittle black dress falls to a puddle on the floor. I choose to train my eyes on that, rather than Whit’s mostly naked body. The way the fabric’s circled, swirling around, looks kind of like a black hole. One time I stayed up until two a.m. on a work night binge-watching space documentaries, and some crazy guy with hair that stood straight up mentioned aliens living in black holes. Anyway, I don’t think I retained anything except that the studio could’ve given the guy a better stylist.
“Hey, so…” Whit catches my attention right before my brain becomes a black hole. She’s wearing a pair of adorable pajama pants covered in dachshunds and an oversized black T-shirt. “Don’t get weird about this, but I bought you a shirt, if you want something to sleep in.”
“Well, Iwasgoing to sleep in my underwear, but now I’m curious.” My heart thuds.
“Again…don’t be weird.” She thrusts a balled-up gray shirt toward me.
It’s my new favorite shirt. I don’t even need to unravel it to know. It could be plain gray—though I doubt it is. If she’s gifting me clothes with the same bashful smile and rosy cheeks she has now, Whit could single-handedly convince me to swap out my entire wardrobe.
“Wait.”Okay, no, it actuallyismy new favorite shirt.“This is incredible.”
“I went to an estate sale a few weeks back. I was going to save it for a gift-giving holiday or special occasion.”
“This is a special occasion. I kissed youso goodtonight, you felt the need to give me a gift.” I’m tugging my stupid cat shirt—every shirt is stupid compared to one that saysHootin’ and Hollerin’—over my head, eager to replace it. Within seconds, I’m also pantsless, and I give her a flirty wink.
“Oh, God. I told you not to make it weird.”
I cackle. It’s horrendous. Similar to a family of seagulls battling over a stray French fry. I chalk it up to being tired. “Weird is what I do.”
She puts her hands against my chest, walking me backward toward the door. “Yeah, I think we’re done here. No need to talk.”
“No way.” I flip the door lock and grin.
In one simple motion, I’m scooping Whit into my arms and carrying her to bed. The sound of her laughter fills the house, and possibly the entire neighborhood. But when we crash onto the mattress, neither of us fight it. I curl around her, slipping a hand under her shirt to feel her warm, soft belly against my palm. And she intertwines my other hand with hers, tucking them both under her head. It’s where we fall asleep for what I hope is the first night of forever.
Whit
Sunlight forces its way into my bedroom around haphazardly closed curtains. I groan, driving my fingers into my temples. There’s a hammering in my skull.Somebody give me a lobotomy.
My hand skims across the warm sheets to the other side of the bed, hoping to find the sleeping form of a man. I know I told Colt I didn’t know if this would work, and to be honest, I still don’t think we can ever be a couple. I’ll give up my selfish desire to have a man who looks at me the way Colt does with those sharp blue eyes—for Jonas’s sake, and for Colt’s, too. But that hard line can be drawn after the fog from last night finally lifts.
Except he’s not here. I blink at the empty space.
Lugging my heavy, aching, too-old-for-this-shit body out of bed, I aggressively rub the drool from the corner of my lips and shuffle to the bathroom for a quick splash of cold water on my face. It takes two rounds of teeth brushing to rid my mouth of the disgusting mixture of old alcohol and morning breath. Then I grab my toothpaste and a spare toothbrush from the cabinet and head downstairs.
At the sound of my footfall, Colt looks up from his phone. “Morning, birthday girl.”
