Me: The kind of asshole that doesn’t warn me
I grab a wad of paper towels and clean up the mess I made. Then I run to my room, throw something on, and wrap my hair in a towel.
When I pick up my phone again, there’s three messages from him.
Sylas: I wanted to surprise you. Surprise!!
Sylas: I’ll leave if you don’t want me here
Sylas: I should’ve warned you, but that defeats the purpose of a surprise
Me: You must be desperate for this favor
My reply is nonchalant, but I feel everything but that. It’s embarrassing and probably pathetic, but I’m happy that he’s here. I shouldn’t be, but I am. I tell myself to chill out as I open the door.
He stands on the other side wearing a beanie, a thick black jacket, and light gray joggers. The tip of his nose is faintly pink as are the apples of his cheeks. When his eyes land on me, his dimples appear and his eyes brighten.
“Very…desperate.” His gaze sweeps over me in a long, slow motion. I’m not wearing anything cute, just an oversized graphic T-shirt and sweatpants. “Were you surprised?”
I keep my face blasé but my lips twitch, tempted to rise. “You showed up unexpectedly. How else am I supposed to react?”
“Ecstatically. Jumping for joy,” he delivers wryly. “It’s me we’re talking about.”
I don’t mean to, but I laugh, and that makes him chuckle. “You think too much of yourself.”
“I do.” He shrugs indifferently like he doesn’t care about how that’ll come off. It should be annoying, but I find it hot.
Stepping to the side, I welcome him in and exhale quietly as I stand behind him, getting myself together.
“What’s so important you decided to show up now? You know, it’s close to midnight.” I motion for him to sit on the other end of the sofa.
It’s weird having him here. He’s so tall, taking up so much space I struggle to breathe. Just a few weeks ago we knew nothing of each other; now we’re talking as if we’ve been friendsfor a while and getting matching tattoos. But as odd as this is, it’s strange how comfortable I feel around him.
“I do. That’s why I’m here. It’s important.” He shifts so he’s facing me.
We’re sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, but we could be sitting miles away from each other and it still wouldn’t feel far enough. He feels so close, chills run down my body and it tenses with anticipation.
“Okay, I’m all ears.”
“I need you to be my girlfriend again.”
I laugh because there’s no way that came out of his mouth. “No, seriously, what’s the favor?”
He stares stoically. “No, seriously, I need you to be my girlfriendagain.”
My mouth splits open, but I’m too stunned to speak. A part of me wants to believe he’s messing with me, but the grave expression on his face tells me he’s being serious.
“What? Why?”
He exhales a fatigued breath, fishes out his phone from his pocket, and shows me the screen. “Because of this.”
Dad: If Anna isn’t working, let’s have dinner tomorrow.
Dad: I’d like to get to know your girlfriend.
“Oh.” I finish reading the message and he drops his phone in his lap, puffing a frustrated breath.
What did I think was going to happen? Really should’ve seen this coming.
