Zach's brows knit. "What?"
"Me being here." My fingers twist the edge of my shirt.
His expression softens. "Of course it's okay. Why wouldn't it be?"
I swallow, glancing at the bed again before blurting, "Well, you know... we're alone in here. Your girlfriend might get the wrong idea."
His brows shoot up, genuine surprise flashing across his face. "Girlfriend?"
Why does he sound so confused?
Is he seriously pretending not to know who I mean?
"Uh, yeah? Taylor—who was literally standing in here two minutes ago."
He stares for a beat, then the corner of his mouth lifts and a chuckle escapes him, "Taylor?" Another quiet laugh. "You mean Taylor Lewis?"
I resist the urge to roll my eyes so hard they get stuck.Who else, genius?
"She's not my girlfriend. God, no." His chuckle lingers, like the idea is too ridiculous to take seriously. "You know I don't do relationships."
A sharp little laugh bubbles out of me—one that sounds nothing like amusement. "Right. Of course you don't."
My lips flatten, my tone going flat to match. "You only do hookups." The words slip out quieter, muttered, but the bite is there.
And of course, that's all it takes for my brain to go full drama channel.
Great. Now I'm picturing it — Zach and Taylor, in this room. On that bed. Naked.Sweaty naked.
Fantastic. Really needed that mental image tonight.
My stomach twists like I just swallowed a shot of tequila too fast. And because my imagination is apparently a sadist, it keeps going.
She's not his girlfriend,my brain supplies helpfully.She's his hookup. His late-night booty call. His sneaky link. His situationship. His no-strings-attached whatever.
God, there are so many names for this now.Casual entanglement?Friends with benefits?Actually, scratch the 'friends.' His fu—
Nope. Not going there.
But it's too late. I'm already wondering how many times they've done it. In this exact room. On this exact bed. God knows how many other girls have been here too.
I almost want to bleach the entire place. Or myself. Maybe both.
Ugh. Disgusting.
Zach's brows draw together, and he leans forward like he's about to say something. "That's not what I—"
"Anyway." My voice cuts through his.
I cross my legs, deliberately looking everywhere but at him—back at the banner, the posters, the damn balcony—until my voice comes out level, almost bored. "I'm ready to listen now."
For a beat, Zach just blinks at me, like that wasn't at all where he thought this was going.
"Uh... right."
His pointer finger drags slowly across his temple before falling away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.
And for the first time tonight, he actually looks nervous.
