Hoo boy.I expelled my breath as he disappeared into the bathroom, carrying his kit. I wasn’t a rejected seventeen-year-old anymore. I was old enough now—wasn’t I?—to appreciate his restraint. “Nothing wrong with a pity fuck,” his friends had said. But I wasn’t looking for rebound sex. For almost three years, I’d believed Chris was the One, seeing only what I wanted to see, overlooking or ignoring any signs to the contrary. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake with Joe.
Especially when I couldn’t be sure of his feelings.
It would be a long, awkward drive home if I got this wrong.
I started digging in my suitcase before I noticed my sleep shirt and shorts, neatly folded at the foot of the sofa bed.Joe.My face flamed at the thought of his big hands all over my pajamas.
The water hissed on in the bathroom. Hastily, I stripped and changed. Should I stand around in my little shorts or get into bed? I felt stupid lurking, waiting for him. I got under the blanket, leaving on the lamp on his side. And then flopped around, listening to the sound of the water. Imagining him reaching for the soap, washing his hair…whatever he was doing in there naked.
He came out of the bathroom, silhouetted against the night-light, wearing boxers and a T-shirt that hugged his chest and stomach. Bare feet. Hairy thighs. I tried not to ogle as he flipped back the covers and got in beside me. The mattress dipped under his weight.
It would be so easy to roll toward him.
I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling as he turned off the lamp. My brain whirred. I should go to sleep. I could pretend to sleep.
He smelled like soap. I resisted the urge to bury my nose in his neck, chasing his scent.Friends, he’d said at dinner. We were friends.
“Well.” I exhaled. “This is awkward.”
“The only-one-bed trope.”
He remembered!
“Exactly.”Leading to embarrassment and unresolved sexual tension.I shifted my legs restlessly. “I haven’t had a sleepover since college.”
There was a weighted silence. “You and Dr.Dick didn’t…”
“Well, obviously we did. Sleep together. But it’s different when you’re having sex with someone.”
“It would be,” he agreed.
A thought occurred to me. “It’s not that I’m worried you’ll try anything. I mean, you didn’t last night.”
“Last night, you’d been drinking.”
“I’m sober tonight.” I bit my lip. Did that sound like an invitation? Was it one?
“That’s good.”
My breath stuttered. “Yeah?”
“No hangover,” he explained. “And you won’t snore.”
“I did not snore! I don’t. Do I?” The bed shook slightly. I raised on one elbow. “Are you laughing at me?”
His eyes glinted in the dark. His hair gleamed from his shower. I wanted to touch it. His mouth curved. “Maybe. A little.”
“Humph.” I flung myself back down on my pillow.
“I told you, I like listening to you.”
A long silence, steeped in intimacy.
“So, are you going to kiss me good night or what?” I closed my eyes.Stupid, stupid, stupid…
His voice grated in his throat. “Bad idea.”
I nodded. Not that it was going to takemetwo years to get over my breakup, but it had only been twenty-four hours. Much too soon / too complicated for me to be throwing myself at my childhood nemesis/crush.
