I missed her. The way we avoided each other now was uncalled for, but I wasn’t sure I could trust myself around her. The obsession had morphed and spiralled until I no longer had control over it.
We stood there for a few minutes, and I fought with myself, unsure I could give her what she wanted, but being around her again, talking to her, eased all the pain in my chest.
“Okay. We’re friends,” I told her, pushing away from the wall so she could get some space. “I’ll leave you to sleep.”
I left the room and headed into my own.
Friends.
She wanted to be friends.
If she wanted to be friends, then why get so jealous of a random woman who threw herself at me?
No. She wanted more than a friendship, but she wouldn’t allow herself. Quentin was too practical. She was thinking beyond the project.
I shook my head, stripping off my clothes before getting into bed. I put my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling.
It wasn’t even like I wanted that woman at the pub. She’d thrown herself at me, and I still couldn’t help but compare her to Quentin. It was maddening how she’d taken over my life without me realising.
The quicker this project was over, the better. Maybe then we’d actually get things back to normal. Being on earth was throwing things out of sync. At home in Elysia, I’d be free of Quen and whatever hold she had over me.
But even I knew I was lying to myself.
A knock on the door made me turn my head. Quen stood in her pyjamas, looking at me.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No. I… It doesn’t matter.”
She turned around, but I let a tendril of aura snake towards her, coiling around her waist.
“What is it?” I asked again.
Quen let out a heavy sigh. “I just… Can I stay with you?”
This woman was going to kill me. I clenched my jaw for a moment and then let my aura drag her towards the bed.
“Of course,” I said tightly.
Before Holden waded in with his size nines, we’d spent nights together. She would sit in bed, working on presentations and spreadsheets, and with a book in my hand, I’d watch her silently.
Something about waking up to her in the morning, before she had a chance to caffeinate and spark up on ambition, was like a drug to me. I saw her first thing before anyone else did. I saw her when she was most vulnerable.
“I like the left side,” she pointed out.
“Tough shit. Get in or get out.”
She rolled her eyes before crawling into bed and settling down beside me. I turned over to face her.
“Is this what friends do?” I asked, unable to help myself.
Quen shrugged in response. “I used to share a bed with friends when I went to sleepovers.”
She’d come prepared with a justification.
“Would you also like to paint my nails and braid my hair?” I quizzed her.
She lifted a hand and ran it through my hair. There was a tenderness in the gesture that revealed itself in the privacy of our bubble. It’d be so easy to kiss her, but I pushed down on those thoughts. She’d done well to justify lying in bed with me, and I wasn’t about to do anything to scare her off.
