“They always leave.” Mom’s voice floats back into my reality and I tear my eyes away from Xander to see an almost regretful look on her face for a split second before she says, “You dodged a bullet, darling.”
“Just stop,” I say to her, while looking back at Xander—but he’s gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Well, this is fucking bullshit.
I am sitting next to Xander in our sleep study bed that somehow has shrunken from what felt like a king-size mattress where I couldn’t get enough of touching him to a single where I have to consciously be aware of every tiny movement so wedon’ttouch.
After Xander left, I hung around the alcove where I awkwardly had to share the outdoor space with one waiter who was vaping like his lungs depended on it. In that moment, I deeply appreciated the addictive nature of social media because that guy did not look at me once. He just sat there, scrolling and vaping until his alarm went off. Then he took one last hit, got up, almost walked into me, and said, “Oh” before leaving.
The perk of being invisible is that he didn’t see me spiral over my confrontation with Xander. Brought to you be the capital L.
Love.
Fuck.
The whole point of commando crawling out the door without so much as a “thanks for the orgasms” was so we could avoidthis.
Whose idea was it to fuck around with feelings and find out while I’m contractually attached to Xander for the next twelve hours? Em. I blame Em. That’s what friends are for.
I should be at home with Em. Talking shit about Xander. Drinking my body weight in margaritas. Celebrating the fact that I dodged the drama. I shouldnotbe here, discovering that if you concentrate hard enough, you can unlock the superpower to feel the air around every hair on your arm.
The side effect of this superpower is that when you think about said arm hair for too long, it starts to feel itchy. And scratching my elbow has me inadvertently touching Xander, who is keeping it very professional. He doesn’t make a disgusted sound when our arms brush. Like my presence isn’t even an inconvenience. Meanwhile, it feels like every single cell has gravitated toward my arm hairs hoping to cop a feel.
He was already at the sleep study when I arrived, which naturally means he’s established the upper hand, thus causing me to second-guess every single breath I take.
My body feels so loud and obvious.
And like undesirable number one.
And yet …
God, I fucking want you, Ash. And I love you.
My brain glitches out replaying his love confession, sending my body hot and cold. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do with that? I’m a Hutchinson.
We don’t find The One. We find family. And we find lovers. And they aren’t ever the same person. And we’re better off for it. We’rehappy.
Did I Google the neuroscience of love and lust in the backseat of the Uber on the way here? Yes. For I am a fact-loving teacher who can’t ignore science. And sure, Xander got me on a technicality. Because while love and lust are distinct they’re also interconnected, meaning his love confession is probably true.
He wants me.
And he loves me.
But me? Hi. I’m the asshole. It’s me. And this is exactly why doctors don’t want you to Google anything. It’s always cancer.
The temperature in the room drops significantly.
I don’t know if it’s the air conditioner kicking into high gear or if it’s because I’m just a cold-hearted bitch, but I need to get under these blankets. The only problem is, Xander’s lying on top of them, next to me, with music in his ears. Pretending I don’t exist. Which is actually fucking perfect.
He offered a quick head tilt when I walked in. You know, the kind of greeting you give someone you haven’t seen in years in the freezer aisle of Trader Joe’s. The gesture that means you do not want, under any circumstances, to encourage any more conversation.
I try to pull the sheets back to climb under, but Xander is rock solid. That hard, muscular body weighs a ton. I’m basically half-under, which isn’t good enough for the current state I’m in. I need to be swaddled by this sheet.
I muster as much strength as I can for one final yank, and I honestly don’t know what I was expecting. Like yanking this hard was going to have the tablecloth effect, just slipping straight out from underneath Xander’s body and onto mine.
Again, I am not a physics teacher, and yet even I know that was never going to happen. Desperate times, and all that.
