“Night,” I reply before closing the sliding door and watching through the open curtain as North waits until he hears me lock the door before he turns and walks away into the darkness of the parking lot.
What was that?
And why did it leave me all hurting and confused again?
Fuck.
Closing the curtain, I slip off my jacket and set it aside before savoring the aroma of the burger in the to-go box. I take it out and inspect the burger, pulling up the top bun to find pickles underneath.
Ew.
Pulling them off, I drop them into the bag before closing the bun again and starting to eat. The flavors fill my senses, and I forget about everything else for a moment. It’s so good, and I enjoy every bite until nothing is left, almost licking my fingers.
Mac, you magician.
With a satisfied sigh, I put on my sleeping clothes and pull my hair into a messy bun. I briefly consider returning to the restaurant to brush my teeth, but the thought of walking alone in the dark and rain gives me pause. Instead, I pop a piece of gum into my mouth and sit on the bed.
It’s cold and clammy inside the van, so I need something to pull over my shirt. As I contemplate which hoodie to wear tonight, I glance at the one I got from Saylor. It desperately needs a wash, leaving Nash’s, which is at least good to wear one more time.
Just as I’m about to put it on, there’s a knock on the door, and I freeze. A wave of anxiety washes over me.What now?
Then Nash’s voice comes from outside, breaking the tension. “Come on, Siren, I’m getting all wet here, and that’s your job.”
Relief washes over me before it’s replaced by annoyance. I open the door to tell him off, saying, “I’m—” But he cuts me off by pushing me backward gently, making his way inside.
He puts down two bags before he turns and closes the door. As if he lives here, he slips out of his jacket, puts it over the passenger seat’s headrest, and then turns to me with a wide grin. Looking like a freaking dessert in a gray hoodie and matching sweatpants, a mischievous glint in his eyes, he steps in front of me, his hands coming to my hips, pulling me close before he shakes his head like a dog. His wet hair sprinkles water droplets everywhere, including my face and shirt, and I laugh, trying to push his chest to get him to step back, but it only makes him pull me closer.
“It’s raining.” He grins down at me, and my heart flutters.
Being this damn charming has to be illegal.
“I gathered that.” I chuckle, unable to feel pissed that he’s here when he’s so close, his minty breath dancing over my face.
His gaze goes down to my white shirt, which is almost see-through on a good day, but right now, the front is wet, and the fabric clings to my peaked nipples. My breath catches, the weight of his eyes scanning me like a caress. He squeezes my hips, and after a moment that feels probably way longer than it is, he clears his throat and reluctantly lets go of me.
“I’ve got you something.” He smiles, turning to rummage in one of the bags. Curious, I lean to the left, trying to look around him and see what he is pulling out of the bag, but I just see a fluffy pink monstrosity.
“Here.” He grins, holding it out to me.
“You bought me a pink blanket?” I ask, reaching out to take it, but he folds it open and holds it out again.
“It’s a hoodie blanket,” he corrects with a grin.
“What’s a—” I start, but he’s already pulling it over my head. Pushing my arms through, I’m now enveloped in fuzzy pinkfabric that reaches my calves. It’s cozy, warm, oversized, and so soft.
I freaking love it.
“See, I don’t just undress you. It also works the other way around. You look cute as fuck, but most importantly, this should be warmer than my hoodie. Although I still want you to wear it.”
“Nash, I—” I start, unsure what to say.
Nobody besides Nan ever just gave me something, and I’m a little overwhelmed by it. Not to mention that a nagging little voice in my head is telling me not to take shit from the men who treated me like it.
“You’re welcome.” He chuckles, leaning down to kiss my nose. I want to protest, to tell him to stop being so…him. But he continues, “There’s more.” He reaches down to pull out two six-packs of our energy drinks. “Do you have a fridge?” he asks while searching the small space. I shake my head. “Okay, it’s cold enough in here anyway,” he mutters, putting them on the floor. “Next, we have entertainment.” He holds out a Switch game to me, and when I take it, I see it’s an action game with all the superheroes, including Spider-Man.
“Who—” I start, but Nash chuckles already.
“North.”
