Fuck.
My body turned ice cold. I looked up, and his eyes were widened into a glare. “I’m so sorry, babe. I’ve been with Mike all night, and I’m really wasted.”
The tightening of his forehead and how his bottom lip curled underneath a tooth squeezed my heart. I hated it when I made him upset, even if it wasn’t intentional. “Why the hell were you withMikeall night?” He clenched his jaw hard enough the muscles twitched.
I tilted my head back and breathed out. “We were supposed to meet, but I couldn’t, so he invited me to a party. That’s all. Can we just go to bed now? I literally can’t keep my eyes open any longer. I promise I’ll tell you everything in the morning.”
Scene 9
Maggie
I lifted my head off the pillow and instantly dropped it back. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and a headache was splitting it in half. Fuck hangovers.
What time is it?I propped myself on my elbows, searching with half-open eyes for my phone. Even the dim sunlight was too bright.
As I staggered out of bed, I spotted the phone poking out from under some papers on the messy desk. 4:23 p.m. My gaze traveled down the oversized, white T-shirt I was in.When the hell did I change?
I turned away and headed back to bed. A yellow note lying on the black sheets caught my attention.
Had to go to work. Back as soon as I can. Call me if you wake up before.
You might wanna shower.
Kyle…not Mike.
Shit.
I closed my eyes, and the events of last night hit me hard. That was not how I’d planned to spend the rest of the night. Just for once, since Mike had gone to Europe, I would let my imagination drift. I would think about how sexy Mike looked in that Armani suit, how strong his arms felt around me, how warm the skin on his muscular chest felt under my hands. I would recall the smell of his cologne that made my sex clench. I would imagine pulling his jacket off, then his shirt, then his belt…
Just for one night, I’d live the fantasy.
In the morning, I’d forget all about it, and I’d become Kyle’s girlfriend again. But Kyle had to be that good person he’d always been. The boyfriend who would break off a business trip to check on his girl because she hadn’t picked up her phone all night. Who would change her clothes, tuck her in bed, and remind her to shower after she’d called him by another man’s name.
But he wouldn’t let it go.
The note assured me of that. He had every right not to.
You had to blurt out his name, you bitch.Shaking my head reminded me Kyle was right—again. I desperately needed a shower; my hair smelled like weed.
I ran my fingers through, pulling it up, and started for the bathroom. The sound of rattling keys stopped me midway. I stared at the frown upon Kyle’s face and sighed.
He set his briefcase and a plastic cup of coffee on the desk. “Good morning.”
“It’s almost evening.” A sheepish smile twitched my lips. “I just woke up.” I pointed at the bathroom. “I’ll jump in the shower, then…we’ll talk.”
He nodded, taking off his suit jacket. “I got you some coffee. Figured you’d need it.”
“Thanks.” My eyes trailed on him as he sat. He looked exhausted. I’d have asked him to join me, but, at that moment, I needed my privacy; the bathroom was the only room with a door. The rest of the apartment was an open space with no barriers. There were no rooms, only places. The sleeping area. The working space. The dining corner. The thinking spot—a bay window that looked over palm trees and mountains. They all merged into a free-form shape that represented my home.
The hot water washed the residue of the party off my body, but not my mind. I lingered in the shower, ridding my head of the Mike Effect. I’d been stifling my feelings for him for years—seven long years—convincing myself it was nothing but a stupid crush. A normal feeling any seventeen-year-old-girl who happened to have the Italian Heartthrob as a family friend would have.
But I was no longer seventeen, and Mike—despite what Andrea or anyone would say—was now my best friend, and every time I saw him, my heart throbbed.
When he’d go away, I’d keep myself occupied, forcing my heart to sway in any other direction, and I’d forget and make-believe. Then he’d return. A few weeks later, a few months later, it didn’t matter. One look, one touch, and I’d remember. Fuck.
I let the water pour on me one more time, gathering my strength for the confrontation. Then I wrapped a towel around my body and stepped outside the bathroom.
Kyle was silent. Tense. His blue eyes dark with hurt. I nestled in his lap, my hands clasped behind his neck. “I’m sorry.”
