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There was no way in the world that I could sleep with her pressed up against me. At least not without a quick trip to the bathroom to give myself a good wank so that my cock might deflate a little. But that would have meant letting go of her, and I wasn’t ready to do that because as good as it felt, I knew that this would most likely be the first and only time that we did this. Bridget would begin to distance herself again in the morning, and I wasn’t about to miss a minute of what she was allowing me to have tonight.
After about forty minutes, her breaths slowed even more and her shoulders fully relaxed. Bridget had fallen asleep in my arms.
Hours later, when she stirred, I was still awake, but I pretended not to be for her own sake. She turned to face me, and then I felt her soft lips on my cheek before she whispered. “Thank you, Simon.” And then she was gone.I had long shifts over the next few days. Since Bridget was off, I hadn’t seen her since she crept out of my bed, and I was feeling some sort of depressing withdrawal. During a particularly slow overnight shift, Brianna, the nurse I’d dated a few times, propositioned me for a quickie in the supply room. Even though it would have probably been the smartest thing for me to do—screw Bridget right out of my head—I doubted if I could even get it up for anyone else at that point.
When my lunch break rolled around, I decided I needed to get some fresh air and headed over to Calliope’s studio for a much-needed pick me up. My friend was always a bright ray of happiness.
As usual, she was teaching a class when I walked in. So, I took my regular position in the back of the room for a session of arse watching while I drank my protein shake. Not even that did anything for me. A bunch of skinny, boyish-shaped arses on women who dressed up in expensive yoga outfits that matched their sneakers couldn’t hold a candle to Bridget in a pair of sweatpants bending over and unloading the dishwasher.
Christ, I’m fucked.
I’d rather be at home watching a mum who was never going to be with me unload her dishes, than checking out a line of twenty-five-year-old arses. This shit is depressing.
Class ended, and I made my way up to the front, genuinely happy to see my friend. “Calli…I’m always dropping by to see you at work. I’m feeling neglected that you don’t at least make an effort to break an arm or need some stitches.”
“Someone might need stitches in the ER, but it won’t be me, you jerk.”
My brows furrowed. What the hell? Where had my ray of sunshine gone? I smiled wide. “Did someone accidentally put two scoops of bitchy in her bowl of grumpy this morning?”
Calli’s hands went to her hips. “I told you not to screw with my friend.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Simon Hogue. I know you did something.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Well then, if you know, fill me in, because I’ve no fucking clue what you’re rattling on about.”
Calliope squinted at me. “What did you do to Bridget?”
“Let’s see. I cleaned up her entire house after a grease fire and then I took her out to dinner on her birthday. Oh, wait, that’s not it. Might it be because I was a perfect gentleman when she rubbed her ass up against my dick half the night?”
“If you didn’t do something, then why is she leaving?”
A sudden panic came over me. “Leaving? What are you talking about?”
“She came in for a class this morning and looked like she’d lost her best friend. When I asked her what was wrong, she said nothing, and then told me she had just booked a trip down to Florida.”
“Okay…”
“So I know you did something.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“So why does she look so sad, and she’s running down to Florida all of a sudden because she needs to get away.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled audibly. “It’s not what you think.”
“Really? What is it, then?”
“Bridget and I…” I searched for words to explain what the hell was going on, but since I didn’t understand what we had myself, it wasn’t easy. “…it’s complicated, Calliope.”
Suddenly, my friend’s face changed. Her anger morphed into wide-eyed shock. “You have actual feelings for her?”
“I like her. Yes. She’s a good person.”
“Of course, she is. I’m not friends with assholes.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You’re falling in love with her.”
“No, I’m not.” I’d answered so fast, it made me even question if I was lying. Was I falling in love with Bridget? The thought seemed ludicrous. “I can’t be falling for her.”
