cake a la Demi, yes.
Liam’s ability to make me shake my head while simultaneously blushing should be studied. Because what the actualfuck, Demi? I should really quit while I’m ahead here, but Liam is proving to be my blind spot when it comes to good choices.
Before I can reply, he sends another text.
Hotshot Quarterback
it’s pretty early. Couldn’t sleep?
I pull the comforter up to my chest as I nestle into the warmth of my bed. It’s weird texting with Liam knowing he’s right next door to me.
He’s right, though, I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been in and out of it all night, and for no particular reason other than I just couldn’t settle myself.
My thoughts kept playing ping-pong and bouncing from one thing to the next. I hate when my nights are spent that way.
Not really… I was in and out all night. You?
Hotshot Quarterback
Slept okay actually. I’m always up pretty early, years of early alarms have conditioned my brain that sleeping in is wrong.
my body disagrees
His body. God, I should not be picturing Liam’s body. The man is handsome, like abnormally handsome. But it still doesn’t mean I should be spending time thinking about him.
What I should be doing is getting up and making myself a well-balanced breakfast. I’ve been eating pastries for too long, and I just know what my sweet mother would tell me about needing to eat something healthier in the mornings. She’s right, but it doesn’t mean I want to hear her say it.
I don’t sleep in much either. Solidarity.
Before he can say anything to continue the conversation, I double text.
I should find something for breakfast though. Have a good day 12.
I get up and pull my closet door open, flicking the light on inside. One eye scrunches shut to help adjust to the brightness and I let my head fall back, stretching my neck. My arms fan out on either side of me before I link them behind my back and pull for another stretch.
No work today, but I have a ton of emails I need to answer, and I really want to try the flan recipe I asked my mom to send me the other day. So at least I can be comfortable on my first full day of not having to leave the house.
I pull a pair of sweats on and opt to stay braless in my tank top. No one is seeing me today so there’s no point in putting one on.
Leaving my closet, I grab my phone from the bed and peek at the screen, there’s another text from Liam.
Hotshot Quarterback
can I borrow two eggs?
I huff out a laugh as I make my way to the kitchen.Become my neighbor,he said.
Sure.
Hotshot Quarterback
Is it ok to come grab them now?
I tilt my head down at my braless tank and sigh. That was short-lived. Reaching for my sweater on the barstool, I pull it over my head and send him a thumbs-up text as I’m making myself some café con leche. It smells so good, and I swear it’s an instant mood booster.
There’s a rhythmic knocking on my door. Not a quick one, two, three. More like a beat. It’s one, then a quick two, and another one. I wonder if he even knows he knocks like that.
I quickly glance in the mirror by my front door. Gray sweats, an oversized NFL sweater, and three-day old hair is about as good as it’s getting this morning. I blow out a raspberry from my lips and unlock both locks on my door before opening it.
