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"See. Not my best."
I arch a brow.
She laughs. "That was my worst grade."
"Of course it was."
"Hey, I didn't tell you to spend your high school career hanging out with druggies and burn outs."
"You sure? I thought that was you."
This laugh is bigger. It gets her light hair falling in her face. Her strap sliding off her shoulder. "Are you gonna stay awhile?"
"Yeah."
"Good." She grabs her glasses from the bedside table and slides them on.
I take a seat on the bed next to her. "I have something for you. Close your eyes."
"Okay." Her lids flutter together. She turns toward me. Every part of her body is expectant. Her back is arched. Her lips are pursed. Her thighs are pressed together.
She wants me to kiss her.
Touch her.
Fuck her.
I want that too.
Fuck, how I want that...
Snap out of it.
I shake my head as I place the notebook in Kaylee's hands. "You can open your eyes."
She does. Her gaze goes right to the leather-bound journal in her hands. "Brendon. This was too expensive."
"My money."
"But, you—isn't this everything you hate? Some mass-produced notebook that costs way too much."
"I'm not that guy anymore." I'm not sure who I am now. Not beyond work and family. Usually, that's enough. But the way Kaylee looks at me—it begs me to fill in all the gaps.
I want to be the kind of guy who deserves her.
"It's so pretty." She traces a heart on the cover. "I'm not sure I can actually write in it." She places the journal on her bedside table and turns toward me. "Thank you."
"Of course."
She scoots forward. Wraps her arms around me. Buries her head in my chest. "Really, Brendon. Thank you."
Fuck, she smells good. Her touch is soft. Sweet. Like she believes I deserve her. "I brought you something else."
"Where?"
"Here." I pull the folded paper from my back pocket. "Our deal."
"Oh." Her cheeks flush as she unfolds the paper. She takes it in slowly.
