“Now?” Grayson rearranged his pillows and settled back down beneath the blankets.
“Ever.”
He scoffed, closing his eyes. “Are you getting in bed or are you going over there?”
“I fucking hate you.”
Grayson’s laugh echoed down the hallway, even after I slammed his bedroom door closed behind me. Still in my pajamas, I shoved my feet into a pair of running shoes beside the door and stepped onto the porch. A glance to the right confirmed Hendrix’s porch light was on, and light radiated from the living room through the tightly pulled curtains. It looked like the colorful flash of a TV show, but I couldn’t be sure. Either way, he was awake.
“To apologize,” I muttered under my breath, stalking down my walkway, across our driveways, and up onto his porch. I knocked twice, loud enough to be heard, and Hendrix took his time answering. Which I probably deserved.
Finally he opened the door, and I immediately regretted crossing the property line. He’d changed clothes, out of his rumpled business professional attire and into a pair of white basketball shorts that hung right where they belonged on his hips. He’d traded the button-up for a college hoodie, his hair messy and begging to be grabbed. I clasped my hands together behind my back so I didn’t do just that.
He didn’t say anything after opening the door, and I realized that I’d expected him to at least greet me in some capacity. Without that interlude, I didn’t know what to say. How dare he abandon social norms just to throw me even more off-base? Hendrix already had my head in the clouds. He had to be aware of the effect he had on me, right?
When a minute had passed and I still hadn’t been able to make sense of the expression on his face, I finally gave in and asked, “What?”
He chuckled, folding his arms in front of his chest.
“You tell me. You’re the one on my porch. Not the other way around.”
“Shit.” I exhaled.
“Did you come to apologize?” he asked.
“For what?”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. They were a kneejerk reaction and not at all what I meant. Hendrix moved quickly at my response, though, trying to close the door in my face. Which, if anything…I still stood by the fact I didn’t deserve the way he kissed me in my kitchen, but I definitely deserved having his front door slammed in my face.
“I’m sorry!” I blurted, throwing my hand out to stop him from getting the door closed on me. I knew if he got it shut, he’d never open it again, and for as much as that would have been the best way for him to treat me, I was shocked to find that wasn’t how Iwantedhim to treat me.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, drawing back my hands when he pulled the door open again.
“For what?” he asked.
Clearly a test.
“For making you go,” I answered.
He moved to close the door.
“For saying what I said.”
He hesitated.
“I’m preemptively sorry that I am the kind of man I am, and I wish that was enough of an apology to encompass all of it, but that’s the truth.”
“What kind of man are you?” he asked. He stepped onto the porch, pushing me a step backward toward the stairs. Hendrix pulled the door closed behind him, a clear sign I wasn’t going to be invited in to talk, which again…probably better.
“Not a good one,” I said.
“Do you cheat?”
“No.”
“Lie?” he asked.
I shook my head.
