Skye seems less drunk than Elsie, but every now and then she stumbles, so I stay close just in case. “Do you play the piano?”
“A bit.”
Is there anything she can’t do? I smile. “Maybe you can play for me sometime?”
A mischievous smile flirts at the corner of Skye’s pink lips. “Maybe, if you’re good.”
I laugh, but the way she’s looking at me is making the chilly hallway suddenly very warm. I try to bring the conversation to a more neutral place. “I thought you and Elsie would get along.”
She nods. “She’s wonderful. So talented and smart. She’s going to give me notes on my project.”
“Oh, that’s great.” I’m a little jealous because I offered to read it, but of course, she would want the writer’s opinion. “About tomorrow,would it be okay if we rescheduled it for the afternoon? We have to finish the table read in the morning.”
When we get to her room, she walks in, leaving the door open, and goes to sit on the blue chair in the corner.
I linger at the door as she kicks off her shoes. “Will the afternoon work?”
“You don’t have to stand in the doorway. Come in.” She makes an exaggerated waving motion with her arm.
I step inside, but don’t want to make myself too comfortable. She’s been drinking, and I don’t want to cross any lines.
“Shut the door. You’re letting in the draft.”
Skye is taking off her sweater, revealing a threadbare white tank top, her black bra visible underneath. My heart is in my throat. I want to reach out and touch her. I want to run my hands along the soft fabric of that top. I want to pull it up over her head and bury myself in her neck, then work my way down.
“Miles, will you shut the door?”
I swallow hard. “I should go. Let you rest.”
Skye walks over and stops just short of pressing her body against mine. She swings the door shut behind me. Her face is so close to mine. She smells like a fancy cocktail, notes of lavender and whiskey. She says in a whisper, her lips almost touching mine, “It lets in the cold.”
Her blue eyes are searching my face, and I can’t find my voice. She puts her arms around my neck, and my hands find her waist instinctively. I want to kiss her—God, do I want to kiss her. But it wouldn’t be right. I don’t want our first kiss to be a hazy memory for her because she was two sheets to the wind. I want her full consent, and I want us both to remember it for the rest of our lives—or at the very least, the next day. She leans in, and I ignore every fiber of my being telling me to pull her in closer. Instead, I push her away.
“Skye, we shouldn’t. You’ve been drinking.”
She waves a hand at me. “Pssh. Drinking schminking.”
I laugh. “Drinking schminking, huh?”
She smiles and shrugs as she sits on the bed and starts taking off her socks. “When did you stop reading your fan mail?”
I shake my head. “You’re really interested in fan mail, huh?”
“Research for my book. When did you stop reading them?”
Searching back, I try to remember. “I must’ve been twenty or so.”
She nods and starts to unbutton her pants. “Do you remember any of them?”
Raising my eyes to the ceiling so I’m not outright staring at her, I think back. “I saved some. There were a couple I used to reread. Actually, one was from Scotland…” My heart beats fast. It couldn’t be. “I could have Jake send them.”
When she stands, her pants fall to the floor, revealing black underwear and long legs. “No. You don’t need to do that.”
“Okay.” I try to focus, get back on topic, peel my eyes away from her thighs. “Tomorrow afternoon, then, for our adventure.”
I say a quick goodnight, knowing the more she takes off, the harder it’ll be for me to leave. Leaning against her shut door, I try to catch my breath.
Tomorrow.
