“Nico!”
My head whips towards the restaurant. I look over the car, on the other side, towards the door. It’s Claire. I look back up at Nico. He hasn’t moved an inch. Hasn’t even shifted his eyes.
I use the weight of my body to shove him off me, and I get in the fuckin’ car.
I hear a repetitive thud against the metal of the car. If I’m not mistaken, Nico is banging his head against it.
While I’m buckling up, Nico rounds the car towards Claire. He wraps her in one of his award-winning hugs, and I throw the hood over my head so I can’t see anything else, closing myself off from the thoughts of the heavy press of his body against mine.
“I hope you told Claire she could come back to the house,” I tell him, ten minutes into the silence of our drive.
He doesn’t answer immediately. “Shut up, Annie,” he finally murmurs.
I clench my teeth together.
Fuck Sister Annie.
The next morning, the sun fully illuminates the gorgeous details of my room, of this house. I check my phone and shoot Chef a quick reply.
From: [email protected]
Yes, Chef. I did what you asked. I opened up. Just a little bit, though. But mostly because I found someone who might’ve been willing to listen. Am I a good girl now?
Now it’s your turn. I’m writing your book, after all. Tell me all of your deepest, darkest secrets. Open up. I’m on your side, too.
I stay in my room as long as possible so I don’t have to run into Claire doing any sort of Walk of Pride. That’s what Izzy and I have renamed the Walk of Shame, by the way. No one should ever be ashamed of their nocturnal choices. Well, maybe everyone except me, because of my dubious choice of partners, but whatever. Getting some is something to be proud of. And Claire is gorgeous. I’d bang her too. She would probably be Walk of Shaming away from me, though.
I stay as long as I can. I get myself off two (or three) more times to a combination of one (or three) of Chef’s old videos. But then I start smelling bacon.
I wander over to the staircase, dip my head down and take a peek into the kitchen. Nico’s alone and frying something (likely bacon) at the stove. I dart my eyes around and only catch the one coffee mug next to him. I take this as a sign it’s safe to walkdownstairs… wearing Nico’s Duke hoodie and some underwear and nothing else. Because, fuck Sister Annie.
“Hey,” I call out.
Nico turns. He gives me a lengthy once-over. His eyes go lazy, and I let myself appreciate it for one second before I walk to the coffee machine.
When I finally turn, Nico’s still looking at my legs. He finally mutters something, shaking his head and turning back towards his cooking.
“Claire still here?” I ask.
“You’re really into Claire,” he says, no longer looking at me.
“You’rereally into Claire,” I remind him.
“I’m really into Claire,” he mutters disbelievingly, shaking his head again. It’s a wonder he doesn’t have permanent neck damage from being around me for the last four days.
“Well?” I press, walking over to stand next to him at the stove and leaning against the counter.
Nico puts his spatula down. He steps over, takes his hoodie by the strings, wraps them around his fist once, and drags me towards him. He meets me halfway and glances down into the wide opening of the collar.
My body lights up. My mouth goes dry.
He licks his lips. “If you thought Claire was here, kinda nasty of you to come down here wearing nothing else but my sweatshirt.”
I shiver. He’s not wrong.
He drops the strings and moves back to the stove. “You know she never came here, honey.”
