I don’t hesitate for a second. “My own tattoo studio.”
His brows shoot up, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leans down, lowering himself until his mouth hovers dangerously close to mine. “Damn, straight to the point.” His eyes linger on me as a low chuckle dances across my lips.
I smirk, shifting my weight onto one hip, letting him see I’m dead serious. “You wanted an answer. That’s mine. No games, Hayes. If I’m signing up for this circus, I’m walking away with something that’s mine.”
I stir awake slowly,tangled in sheets that definitely aren’t mine. The mattress is too soft, the room too warm, and the faint smell of Maverick surrounds me like a taunt. Shifting slowly, I feel something warm and wrinkly pressed against my hip.
Oh my god, please let that not be Maverick’s dick.
I stay perfectly still, heart pounding, praying I don’t have to process that level of trauma before coffee. The weight shifts again, pressing closer.
Please, pleaseeeee.
My eyes flutter open, and I dare risk a glance down.
Oh, thank god, it’s not him.
It’s just Rex.
He’s curled into a tight, suspicious little meatloaf, hishairless body radiating heat, with his face tucked into the throw pillow, snuggled against my hip.
Soft, early morning light leaks in through the oversized windows, painting long shadows across the floor. The faint scent of Maverick’s cologne clings to the throw blanket he tossed over me sometime in the night.
I stretch slowly with my arms overhead, spine cracking as I untangle myself from the blanket.
It’s suspiciously quiet.
I pad barefoot into the bathroom, dragging sleep and residual irritation behind me. The tiles are cool beneath my feet, and the light above the vanity flickers softly to life when I flip the switch. I blink hard, squinting against the sudden glow, and step up to the mirror…
I freeze.
Right in the center of it, crooked, bold, and impossible to miss, is a neon pink sticky note with the unmistakable scrawl of a man who definitely wrote it in Sharpie and almost certainly didn’t think twice.
Morning, dollface :)
If you’re reading this:
1. My back hurts from the couch, but it’s ok, I still love u
2. You’re still here, which feels like a win
I know last night was a lot.
like… a lot a lot
I get it if you wanna run, but if you don’t?
I left coffee on the counter and a hoodie that smells like me.
(Some say it’s better than therapy. Those people are me.)
Anyway, think about it.
Or don’t.
You can stay and glare at me forever.
I’ll still think you’re hot.
