Page 18 of More Than Friends

I rise to my feet, keeping my gaze locked on him. Even after I rolled away from him, he hasn’t moved. His sandy-brown hair falls over his forehead, and his lips part slightly in his sleep. The sunlight from the living room window drifts in through an opening in the curtains, causing sunbeams to dance across his skin.

Once I’m sure that he isn’t waking up, I turn my attention to the living room. I need to get my clothes—or at the very least,some sort of pants—and then I need to rush home and get to work. The orange glow of the sunlight gives me hope that I have plenty of time to make it home, get myself together, and still arrive on time for my shift at the club today.

I spot my phone on the ground near the coffee table. I crouch down and grab it, relieved to find that I still have over an hour until I have to be at Pembroke.

My eyes scan the room as I try to decide if I should try and clean up or not. There’s a bottle of wine still on the table and our empty glasses right next to it. There are even empty plates from what was apparently a late-night snack that I don’t remember.

Jude makes a sound behind me, and my head immediately whips in his direction. My stomach drops at the thought of facing him before I even get a grip on what did—or didn’t—happen last night. I know I’ll have to see him again, and I’m sure things will be totally fine and not awkward at all, but I at least need to get rid of this hangover and attempt to regain my hazy memories from last night.

With his eyes still closed, Jude adjusts his body slightly on the couch but doesn’t wake up. I feel guilty for leaving the living room the way it is, but I start to tiptoe toward Jude’s room to find my pants.

My heart races the entire time I collect my things. I’m hoping that if I’m able to sneak out of here while he sleeps peacefully, by the time I see him again later today, or whenever, we can just pretend that we didn’t drink too much last night.

I tiptoe toward his front door, keeping a close eye on his sleeping form as I make my way outside.

I’m able to get out of the house and to my car without waking him up. The moment I get in my car, I finally let out a deep breath of relief.

I back out of his driveway and hope that I can find a way to get rid of this massive hangover before starting my shift.The entire drive home, I try to force myself to remember if anything else happened between us last night, but I keep coming up empty. I don’t think we crossed any lines. I can’t remember exactly though.

Things won’t be awkward at all the next time I see him.

Everything is fine.

So why, when I let my mind wander, do I almost wish that somethingdidhappen?

I’m not immune to Jude’s good looks and charm. I am attracted to him, but I’m smart enough to know that a man like him doesn’t settle down. He’d be a great one-night stand, and if he weren’t one of my best friends, I’d absolutely go for that. But he is my friend, and I do care for him in a way that makes me not want to lose him. I can’t let the fact that he’s good-looking and has the charm of any good playboy cloud my judgment. I can’t cross a line with him that can’t be uncrossed. Because of that, I can’t hope that something more did happen between us. I can’t want more from him. He’s staying in the friend zone because I don’t have many friends out here in the Hamptons with Lucy gone as much as she is. Because of that, Jude and I have grown close, and now…I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.

We’re staying friends.Justfriends. We’ll never be more than friends.

The problem is, even as I rush to pull myself together for work, I can’t stop picturing the desperate way he looked at me last night. I know I was pretty tipsy, and I can’t trust my memories, but I swear he looked at me in a way that no one’s ever looked at me before. It was in a way that screamed he didn’t want tojustkiss me, and I don’t know what to do about the hazy recollection.

I’m still thinking about it as I park my car at Pembroke Hills. I know I have to be making it up. Jude wouldn’t look at me thatway, and I need to stop fantasizing about him doing it. Nothing happened or almost happened last night.

He’s going to show up at the club later and act like his usual self. He’ll say something to annoy me, and we’ll be back to normal. I’ll be annoyed at myself for spending all morning worrying about it, and we’ll move on.

Nothing’s going to change at all.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself as I work my shift at Pembroke.

TEN

JUDE

The soundof my doorbell ringing pulls me from a deep sleep. I groan, adjusting my position on the couch. I wrap my arms tighter around Charlotte, wanting just a few more minutes with her in my arms instead of answering whoever is at the door.

Except I quickly realize it isn’t Char’s body that I’m cuddling anymore—it’s a throw pillow.

My doorbell rings again, and the sound of it has me leaping off the couch. The gates must’ve been left open overnight, and the front door auto-locks. It could be Charlotte at the door. I’ve told her the code to the keypad, but I’m sure she’s forgotten it.

I smile and run to the front door, more excited at the thought of seeing her than I should be. I know we drank a lot last night, and at first, she turned me down after kissing her, but the mood still shifted after that.

Once we both got ready for bed, we put on a movie, and it hadn’t even started before she was lifting my arm from my side and tucking her body next to mine. I don’t remember when exactly we fell asleep watching the movie, but I know nothing will ever beat the feeling of falling asleep with her in my arms.

The night was perfect. So perfect that part of me wants to do something I never expected to do—I think I want to askCharlotte on a date. It was on the tip of my tongue last night to ask her, but I never did because it wasn’t something you ask when you’re not sober.

But now, we’ll both be sober—both probably fighting a hangover—and I can ask her on a date. The tension between us last night can’t all be in my head.

My cheeks spread in a wide smile—despite the dull ache at the back of my head—as I yank the door all the way open before even looking through the peephole to see who it is.