Page 65 of Strum Me

Chapter Twenty-Four

Emily

There’s someone in bed with me.

I think.

I don’t know; I’m not quite awake enough yet.

I move my arm to my waist, and yes, there’s definitely an arm there that’s not mine. It’s hairy. My arms are not hairy.

I scream.

The arm’s moved and the hand is over my mouth now. I try to scream louder.

“It’s just me! It’s Brad!” The voice says right into my ear.

I stop the third scream rising up my throat and try to focus on the face in the dark.

“Brad? Oh, thank God,” I say, muffled by his hand.

He lets go of me and I realize what’s happening.

“Wait, BRAD! What the fuck are you doing in my bed? Get out!”

He immediately jumps off the bed. Just as the disappointment rears.

“I’m sorry. I was just—no.” He stops and even in the dark I can see his eyes are frantic and he grabs handfuls of his own hair, shaking his head. “Ugh, fuck the excuses. I…I JUST WANT TO BE WITH YOU, you insufferable, incorrigible woman!” he blurts out, holding out his empty hands.

I feel myself blink and then say something ridiculous.

“Er, yeah, that’ll do it. Ooh take me now, you sweet talker,” I mock, as a way to stall to get my bearings. I place my hands under my chin and flutter my eyelids at him, before rolling my eyes.

“Ugh don’t do that! Don’t try to ignore the issue with your…annoying cuteness!” he growls at me, his face scrunched up into a frown that stretches from the tip of his hairline to the pointed end of his chin.

“I wasn’t.” Yes, I was.

“Annoying woman! We need to sort this out once and for all.”

“I thought you said that ball was in my court!”

“That was before I knew you don’t know how to hold a racket!”

“Clever.” It actually was, witty fucker.

He kneels down on the bed next to me, and I almost fall into the dip he makes. Pushing myself away from him, I try to ignore the image of me falling face-first into his lap.

“Emily,” he says, calling me by my name, sounding more serious than I’ve ever heard him. I sit up and look him in the eyes, ready to listen. I know I owe him that. Whatever it is he wants to say, he’s proven that he’s got my best interests at heart.

“I love you.”

Okay. I didn’t expect that. “What?”

“What? Like that’s a surprise?”

No. Of course it’s not, because I love him too. And he knows it. But I can’t.

“And don’t say you can’t.”