The tension in my neck told me I needed to succumb to sleep and get some rest, otherwise I risked a migraine. I didn’t know what the morning would bring, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it then. I’d just have to hope I hadn’t ruined everything.
And that I could live with the knowledge of what it felt like when I was buried deep inside Penelope without giving in to temptation again.
We all have those days when the alarm is especially jarring, and that Monday morning was one of them. It felt like I’d only just closed my eyes when the relentless beeping ripped me from sleep.
Waking up alone left me disappointed all over again. What would it have been like to open my eyes to the sight of her? To pull her against me and enjoy a few minutes of contact before we started our day?
Groaning, I hit the alarm to shut it up and stretched my neck a little in both directions. Vision was normal, no growing tension. No sign of a migraine. That was good.
I got up and did my best not to think about the previous night as I got ready for school. It was there—the memory of her body, her mouth, her hair fanned out over my sheets. But maybe if I ignored it long enough, it would stop torturing me.
Or maybe I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
Showered and dressed, I hesitated in front of my bedroom door, a sense of dread knotting my stomach. She was up. I could hear her moving around. Was it going to be awkward? Had I crossed a line and ruined our friendship?
Time to face her, for better or worse.
I found her in the kitchen with all her meal-prep containers spread out in two rows on the counter. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder as I walked in, then turned back to what she was doing.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning.”
“I thought you finished those last night,” I said.
“Me too, but I forgot the salsa.” She dropped a dollop into one of the containers. “I’m so glad I realized it in time. They would have been so bland.”
I wanted to move in close and wrap my arms around her. Lean in and kiss her neck, inhaling her scent. But I just watched her, unable to move, as if my feet were rooted to the floor.
She put one more scoop of salsa into a container, then started snapping the lids on. Leaving two on the counter, she stacked the rest and put them back in the fridge.
“There, all fixed.” She put the salsa away and shut the refrigerator door, then grabbed one of the containers and held it out to me. “This one’s for you.”
For the first time since I’d walked into the kitchen, she really looked at me. Granted, she was only waiting for me to take my lunch. But I realized with a sense of relief that everything seemed normal.
Did that mean we were okay? She hadn’t woken up with regrets?
I took the container. “Thanks.”
She smiled and I didn’t miss the hint of pink in her cheeks. “You’re welcome.”
“Hey, Pen.” I hesitated. “We’re good, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.”
“You sure?”
She rubbed her lips together, making me wonder if she was remembering the feel of my mouth on hers. “Yeah, I’m sure. We’re fine. I mean, I’m fine. Are you fine?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Okay, good.”
I nodded. It was good. Last night had happened, and it had been fucking amazing. And it hadn’t changed anything. We were all right.
But as the day progressed, I realized I wasn’t.
When I’d told her I was fine, I’d meant it—I hadn’t been lying. Or maybe I’d just wanted it to be true. But the reality was, I was kind of a mess.
