“No, not really. Work takes up a lot of my time.”
He eases into the pillows, his movement making his head fall onto my pillow. Though he doesn’t look at me, just closes his eyes and lets out a heavy breath.
“I know the feeling.”
I’m tempted to shift him off my pillow. This bed isn’t that big and I barely have enough space as is, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Not when I see the tension loosen in his shoulders as he lets out that sigh. He opens his eyes, looking up at me, and I am frozen. A statue, my entire body stiff as a board.
“What?” I ask, my voice darker, lower than it should be.
“You know… we really should see each other more. Maybe just talk more.”
I wrinkle my eyebrows. “Talk? About—”
Trey shrugs. “Anything. Stupid shit. You can tell me anything, you know.”
I consider his words. Part of me wants to believe he’s right. The part of me that wants to tell him the truth, anyway. But I don’t think he means it the way I want him to.
He shifts, his body brushing mine as he slips into my space a little more. Any further, and he’s going to push me off this bed all together. But I don’t shove him or push him back.
“I mean, texting me isn’t so bad, is it?”
I laugh again. “No, it’s not bad. I think that would be a good idea.” The rain echoes outside, and the light of the room is low, casting shadows across his face, making his dimples stand out more. Could I tell him my secrets? Would he really want to hear them? His eyebrows furrow and a look of concern graces his face. “What?”
I’m not sure I can tell him about my diagnosis, or about how the last few years have been a struggle, or that the closest thing I have to a friend is my therapist, and that in itself is concerning. So I just say, “I don’t really have… friends.”
“Yeah, I he—I mean, yeah. With work, I’m sure it’s tough.” His gaze flashes to my mouth, or at least Ithinkit does. I can’t be sure because it happens so fast. Maybe he was just looking between us. Or maybe there was something in his eye; I don’t know. But whatever it is, I brush it off because there’s a strange sense of déjà vu.
“But we can be long-distance buddies. Totally.”
“I’d like that.” It’s not a lie; the idea of talking to Trey, even if it’s just over text… is nice.
“Unless, of course, you decide you don’t like me anymore,” he says sarcastically.
That earns him a shove, and he laughs.
“Fuck you, Kelly.”
He shoves me back, but it’s light, dare I say, playful.
I give him another shove, scooting so I can get as much of myself on this bed as possible, but all that does is position me closer to him.
My shoulders loosen as my eyes get heavy, and I yawn.
“Yeah, probably a good idea,” he says, echoing a yawn of his own in return.
Chapter Thirteen
Trey
The rain is steady, but not as heavy as it was before we got here. Thunder still echoes in the distance, but the lightning has stopped. Normally, I find storms relaxing. In fact, sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly lonely, or homesick, when I’m awake in the middle of the night like this, I put on relaxing rain sounds and close my eyes and zen the fuck out until I fall asleep.
But tonight, I fear not even the sound of the rain can put me out.
Not when my entire body feels like a damn strung wire in more ways than one.
After a hot shower and five slices of pizza too many, I’m feeling more relaxed, which would be great if I wasn’t hard as a fucking rock.
I’ve never felt self-conscious about such things before. I can’t recall ever feeling self-conscious about my dick in front of other dudes before. But here I am, heart in my throat, inches away from Hudson, terrified he’s going to move and discover my little problem. Part of me thinks I should get up, head into the bathroom, and take care of said issue. I mean, I could, and it wouldn’t be weird. I could slip into the bathroom, shut the door, bite my tongue and just…
