“So that makes me like your girlfriend?”
“No,” she says, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth, “it makes you one of the few people I like.”
The compliment has me wanting to puff up my chest, but there will be time for thatlater.
“In that case, I’m going to heat up a frozen pizza. I’ll open the bottle of wine I got for you and?—”
“You got me wine?”
“Yeah. I snooped at your apartment yesterday because the only things I drink are water, coffee, and soda with a high caffeine content.”
“How very on-brand,” she muses, and I pull her tighter against me.
“I think I’m supposed to be offended by that, but I am both a computer geek and a gamer so…” It’s my turn to shrug. “I have some work to do so we can either stay out here, move the movie to my room and eat in there, or you can crash in the guest room and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“How long do you have to work?” she asks and I nod toward her phone.
“Until I get some answers or I want to throw my laptop, whatever comes first.”
“Your room it is.”
“You got it, Coach.”
8
KINSLEY
The room is still dark when my eyelids flutter open, but I have a feeling that has more to do with the heavy curtains covering the windows than the actual time. Royce sleeps soundly behind me on his back, his leg now draped over mine. We’d cuddled on and off throughout the night, neither of us seeming to be away from the other for very long.
It was strange butnice,and I don’t know how I feel about that.
I’d fallen asleep curled up next to him as he’d pounded away on his laptop, the sound somehow soothing despite his obvious frustration with whatever he was looking at. I’d spent the last two months alternating nights with Nessa and Remi, so part of me could rationalize needing to bewithsomeone—needing the noise.
But the other part of me knew I couldn’t be alone after getting the messages.
Nessa’s absence makes me realize just how isolated we really are in Nashville, and while I love playing soccer, the ugly moments always make me question if it is worth it.
Does the good outweigh the bad?
Royce murmurs something unintelligible and rolls away from me, and I take the opportunity to slip out of bed. My feet are silent on the hardwood as I walk to the bathroom and close the door as quietly as I can.
The overhead light is surprisingly gentle, and I appreciate it after the darkness of his room. I freshen up with the things he’d given me last night, apologetic that he didn’t have anything fancier for me to wash my face with than a generic bar of soap.
My skin is no worse for wear, but I couldn’t make it a habit.
My skin care routine is probably weeping in my bathroom, and my social media followers would be appalled that anything other than the tears of a rare desert flower touched my face.
The thought makes me snort.
He’ll just have to stay over at my apartment next time.
My eyes widen and my lips part, my expression almost comical in the mirror. I don’t really do sleepovers, and I definitely don’t do sleepovers for the sake of cuddling.
Last night had been the exception, and I need to remember that.
Finishing up, I turn off the light before sneaking from his bedroom and into the hall. It’s much brighter out here, the sun streaming in through the frosted-glass windows, something I hadn’t noticed last night.
Three different coffee contraptions line the kitchen counter next to the sink, and it has my lips kicking up into a smile. Promising to try the others next, I select a pod for the single-serve machine and grab a cup from the cabinet. It’s black with Tetris pieces on it, like the game I used to play. The design is faded, the mug obviously loved.
