“I…” Naomi shook her head as if the movement would turn back time so neither of us would make this awkward mistake.
My towel was close to the door, so I couldn’t backtrack without turning to her and giving her a full view of what I had going on. Through the mirror, I watched her gaze travel down my back to my ass. Her eyes widened and she let out a heavy breath when I moved toward my dresser. Embarrassment looked cute on her. Naomi pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and fumbled with the vacuum’s cord. It was stuck on something under my desk.
As she struggled, I opened a drawer and retrieved a pair of boxers. With them on I hoped the air would feel a little less heavy, but that wasn’t the case.
“I was cleaning.” She gestured around the room, doing her best not to make eye contact. “I thought you were still out. If I’d known…”
I nodded, hoping my calm would transfer to her. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I wouldn’t have come in here,” she continued. As Naomi spoke, she refused to meet my gaze. “Maybe we should have a schedule for when I clean stuff so that this doesn’t happen.”
“You don’t have to clean in here,” I decided. The rest of the guys were used to being picked up after, but having a maid was uncomfortable for me. Especially since I knew how hard Naomi worked in every other facet of her life.
“Oh, no, I still can. We should just coordinate, is all.” Her eyes finally met mine. My stomach flipped at how her smile, even when hesitant, lit up her face. Even through the awkwardness, she still offered something. How did she do it so easily?
I didn’t realize I was frowning at first. It was more of a habit. The clearing of her throat brought me back to the reality where we were still technically strangers. I was supposed to know nothing about how she couldn’t stand the quiet.
“I should go.” She gave me another smile, but this one wasn’t as bright. A few seconds in my presence did that. “Let you get ready in peace.”
I nodded, watching her leave. I wanted to call her back. Ask if she’d slept well. Or maybe talk about our almost kiss and how I was sorry if it made her uncomfortable. Words refused to leave my lips. It was for the best.
As soon as the door clicked behind her, I fell back onto my bed. With my hands covering my eyes, I groaned.
How the hell was I going to get Naomi to like me as much as she liked Mid? I wanted to make some type of good impression so it’d at least soften the blow of my confession. I couldn’t keep this secret from her. The longer I stayed quiet, the more it’d hurt.
I’d give myself a deadline. By the end of the week, we’d talk. I’d be honest, open, and real. As real as this version of me could get. She’d know and whatever she decided, I’d accept. I’d quit moderating for her. I’d leave the Discord. Whatever she needed, whatever made her happy, I'd give it to her. Even if it was a life without me.
Chapter Seventeen
Naomi
Mymindwasstillracing from seeing Finn naked. I knew his large thighs would be mind-numbing underneath his clothes—he was a hockey player, for heaven’s sake. But I never expected to break out in a cold sweat.
Being this turned on, by looks alone, was a rarity for me. I needed a little more than an attractive body to get me in the mood. I suppose Finn possessed that little more in some way. Who knew the secret to getting me hot and bothered was grouchiness and speaking in one-word sentences ninety percent of the time?
On the ride to the community center, I opted for a spot in the back. There was no way in hell I’d be able to sit next to Finn and not think about how the muscles in his calves gave me fantasies I didn’t know were possible—who fantasizes about calves? And don’t get me started on how large his dick looked in that closet mirror. He wasn’t even erect. How would it look when he was ready to get to work?
I sighed and fanned myself at the thought. Lincoln and Henrik sat on either side of me, discussing the mystery story from breakfast. I gripped an arm across my chest, careful not to brush against either of them while I imagined their friend throwing me over his knee.
Lincoln and Henrik’s discussion soon broached argument territory. Sam egged them on from the passenger’s seat, playing devil’s advocate for both sides. Finn was his usual quiet self. When I dared to glance at him in the rearview mirror, his gaze remained trained forward. He never looked away from the road, even when his friends tried to bait him into an argument.
“Point is, Finn won.” Sam gave a one-shoulder shrug.
“Even if he helped craft the story?” Henrik asked. “That hardly seems fair.”
Lincoln groaned. “For the last fucking time, I asked him one question about story structure. He’s read more books than all of us combined. I’d be a fool if I didn’t use him as a resource.”
“You basically retold an episode ofSherlock. Didn’t seem like you were using any other resources besides that,” Henrik said. “Of course, Finn would detect your ‘subtle nuances.’ The guy loves Sherlock.”
“Why are you using air quotes?” Lincoln mocked the use by curling his fingers. “My subtlety is real.”
“Link, there’s nothing subtle or nuanced about anything you do,” Henrik explained.
“You are quite the exclamation point,” Sam agreed with a chuckle.
“What? I could be a period, if I wanted,” Lincoln insisted and then turned to me. “What do you think?”
I shook my head, not expecting to be included in the conversation. After spending so much time with them, I’d accepted they spoke too fast and moved around each other with such familiarity that I’d struggle to get a word in if I wasn’t willing to work for it.
