“Here.” Tyler hands me a set of matching sweats and a hoodie. “You can use the guest bathroom down the hall.”
I’m here. In his townhome. I’m going to benaked, in his townhome. I’m well sober now. If it hadn’t been the tacos that sobered me up, it was the cold rain.
“Thank you.” I grab the clothes.
Regardless of the cold, his hands are warm. As I grab the clothes, he firmly grabs my wrist. Looking up, I see his breathing is heavy as he stares at my hand. His fingers weave through mine as he watches them lace together.
“Yes?” I ask after a too long moment of silence.
His eyes flick up to mine, bringing him back to this moment and out of his head. It’s late, or early. Whatever you would call this middle of the night madness. We’ve been up for hours, and he isn’t thinking clearly.
He drops my hand. “Make yourself at home. There should be a variety of shampoos, conditioners and soaps to your liking. The guest room is all yours. Stay as long as you need to sober up,” he says, like I haven’t spent the night here before. Like we didn’t sit on his couches, laughing and talking for hours at a time about nothing at all.
“Thank you.” I turn, walking towards the bathroom.
I’m so utterly sober now, and I’m wondering if I should’ve just gotten in that damn truck and let him take me home. Because I can’t stop thinking about the idea of our rain soaked bodies pressed together.
The warm shower thaws my bones while my mind festers with the thoughts of him showering, too. I grab the bottle of soap, realizing it’s a coconut and vanilla scent. My brows crease as I look at the others, seeing the curl products I use there, too. Brand new bottles lined on the shelf. I stare at them, realizing he knew exactly what I use without asking. He sees me, and I realize Tyler is all about details. The little things you wouldn’t think people would care about. Down to the simplicity of what soap I use.
As I dress, I can’t help but notice how large his clothes are on me. The sweatpants are loose around the waist, making me firmly tie the drawstrings. The hoodie practically goes to my knees because he’s so damntall. But it’s comfy, dry, and warm, and they smell just like him.
Peeking my head out of the bathroom, I see him walking out of his room with sweatpants and no shirt, his hair still wet from the shower.
The lightning gives illuminating moments in his dark home while thunder cracks. An unrelenting storm, most likely keeping me here for the night.
I watch his muscles flex as he pulls a t-shirt over his scarred back. The door squeaks and he turns around, his emerald eyes piercing me. Looking me up and down, he lets out a laugh. It’s rich, genuine, and delectable.
Walking towards him, I start laughing too, but don’t say anything because my heart is absurdly calm and that scares me.
“Are you tired?” he asks.
“Honestly, no,” I admit.
“Good, I have some booze downstairs waiting for us.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
TYLER
“I’ve neverdrank bourbon before, but after a few sips it’s not terrible,” she laughs, handing me the bottle.
The fire is roaring, and it creates a glow on her face that makes me want to kiss each subtle freckle flecked across it. My living room is dark, save for that firelight, and my couch looks a hell of a lot better with her on it. Especially in my clothes, covering them in her scent.
“It’s my drink of choice.” I take a swig, handing it back to her.
“Why don’t you ever really drink at events or holiday parties?” She takes another drink. I think I may need to slow her down or else she’ll be hating me in the morning.
I take the bottle from her. “In case of moments like Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, so you can stare at me with those pretty eyes all night?” She snatches the bottle away from me.
I smile. Honestly, I haven’t been able to get this stupid too wide grin off my face. Alcohol is making us bold but I don’t mind.
Let’s be bold.
She’s drunk, but I’d rather her be drunk here than out there. She has a soft, small smile that hasn’t left her lips and her eyes don’t seem so alert anymore. Now that her hair is drying, her curls are starting to form in wild tendrils around her head. I want so badly to run my fingers through them.
“You caught me staring, but I caught you staring, too.” I snatch the bottle playfully.
