“Of course.”
I steal a glance at Xander and see a faint smirk on his face. He’s so casual he should be lying down. How is it that he cameinto this fake relationship on edge, and I was the calm, cool, collected one, and now here I am, feeling like an electric live wire, exposing myself?
The power I once held in this arrangement has shifted.
But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because we’re in this together now.
CHAPTER FOUR
I slam shut the door of my dumpy Subaru Legacy, the car ranked as one of the Top 10 Safest Cars from 2009 to 2014. That’s not the reason I own it, but it is the reason it’s one of Mom’s hand-me-downs. She moved onto her Mercedes phase when her agent landed her a seven-figure deal for the Netflix special and insisted I take it because the “shit box” I was driving “is going to kill you one day.” Hey, I kept that “shit box” immaculate.
Before leaving the room, Xander and I finished up the questions, signed the contracts, and were instructed to report back to the clinic next Friday for our first sleep session. We officially made it. We’re in.
And now I have to deal with the fallout.
I take out my phone, itching to call Emily. It’s her fault I’ve gotten into this mess in the first place. I need to vent.
But a knock on my window startles me. Cursing under my breath and hoping to God that I’m not about to be mugged, I look up to see Xander’s midriff. Definitelynota carjacker. Butthe view makes my pulse race all the same. The window frames all my favorite body parts. Lower part of the stomach behind a fitted T-shirt. Waistband of his jeans peeking out. And let’s not forget about the forearms. So underrated. It’s not always about biceps. I bite my bottom lip to distract myself from the other body part that my blood is now rushing to at the sight of him.
I toss my phone on the passenger seat and as I roll down the window, he bends so we’re face to face. He really is annoyingly hot. There’s something about his attractiveness that isn’t all physical. It’s attitude too. The way he holds himself. The way he interacts with his surroundings. The way he moves in time and space. You can’t replicate that level of hotness in a static image. Or a memory.
“Hey, you rushed out of there so quick, I didn’t get to say thanks,” Xander says, now leaning his arms on the window frame, biceps popping, and sure, I was just complaining that biceps get all the attention, but what can I say? In this case they deserve it.
Without his jacket on, I can see his arm is covered in a sleeve tattoo. It looks like someone spilled color across his arm and just kept going. A kaleidoscope of chaos wrapped around muscle. Like it tells a story. It makes me wonder what other body parts he got inked since I last saw him naked. Is his back still bare and unblemished?
“For what?” I say, refocusing on his face, using his half-moon scar as my anchor. The only problem is, it’s close to his lips.
“For helping get me into the sleep study,” he says, examining me.
That’s when I see his eyes grow darker, the sunburst hazel disappearing into the horizon like at sunset, replaced with sepia-glowing nightfall. He’s serious. And that realization is just what I need to get my out-of-control imagination tightly reined in. For some reason, I don’t want to let him down. My brain remindsme I shouldn’t care. But Xander is somehow making the system glitch. Ireallyneed to call Emily and process all this before my brain overheats.
“You’re welcome,” I say. It’s succinct. Sincere. And honest.
“I got the answer to your question,” he says, his eyes back to sparkling like the sun. Life force flowing through every word.
“What question?” I ask, perplexed.
Not saying anything, he pushes himself off the window frame, and my eyes track him like I’m a bounty hunter as he walks around the car, opens the passenger door, and glides in.
He picks up my phone from the seat before sitting down and holds it. Just holds it. There’s something so personal about someone holding your phone. It holds the secrets to your conversations with your best friends, your search history, your calendar, and how you fill your days.
Being in proximity, in such a confined space, makes me acutely aware that Xander smells like a mixture of something sweet and something fresh. I don’t know exactly what. All I know is it feels like I’m hot boxing his scent. And I’m kinda getting high off it.
“Your payday just doubled,” he says.
What? There’s nothing like talking about money to bring you back down to Earth. Does he mean what I think he means? Is he giving me his share of the sleep study money? Why? Is he mega rich? I should be reacting verbally to him, insisting that he take his share. But if he gives it to me, I won’t just have enough to pay the rent, I’ll have enough to actually enjoy the rest of my summer.
“Why don’t you want the money?” I say, instead of thank you.
“I don’t need the money. I need to sleep,” he says. It comes out harsh and judgmental, like he’s implying only losers who desperately want to get paid would come to a sleep study. Histone makes me judge myself, my brain taking stock of every decision that led me to this moment.
He holds my phone in front of my face to unlock it. I really hope he hasn’t done this before with an unconscious body.
“What are you doing?”
He types a number into my phone. And then his phone rings. And then my phone pings while it’s in his hand. To my shock and horror, a wicked grin flashes across Xander’s face. I have no doubt that text was the Bone It app. Please let it not be one of the more detailed, creative messages.
“You’ve got my number and I’ve got yours,” he says, handing my phone back. “And someone from Bone It wants to know if you’re up for some ‘eggplant emoji peach emoji tonight?’ ”Oh, no.My soul shudders.
