Page 17 of More Than Friends

If she wants to watch a movie together, I’m going to watch a movie with her. No matter how much it might torture me to do so.

I hold my hand out in point to the exit for my closet. “Then let’s go watch a movie.”

NINE

CHARLOTTE

I wakeup with a pounding headache and my back pressed against something solid and warm. I blink a few times, trying to wake myself up enough to figure out where I am.

Last night is a little blurry. I remember playing cards, but I don’t remember what happened after. I look down, finding a tan arm sprawled across my middle.

My eyes go wide, and my entire body stills as I realize where I am and, more importantly, who I’m with.

I slowly turn my head to look over my shoulder, my eyes immediately landing on a peacefully sleeping,shirtlessJude. In his deep sleep, his long eyelashes rest against his sharp cheekbones. His hand rests against my stomach, and even though my shirt provides a fabric barrier between his skin and mine, I swear I feel the heat of his hand through the shirt.

Speaking of shirts. I glance down, realizing that the shirt I’m wearing is not the one I showed up in last night. It’s looser and far softer. It’s Jude’s.

“Oh, fuck,” I whisper, immediately glancing over at Jude the moment the words accidentally slip from my mouth. Luckily, he stays fast asleep, giving me time to figure out what the hell happened last night.

Did we have sex? I gently lift the blanket that’s tucked around me, letting out a sigh of relief when I find out I’m at least still wearing my underwear.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember what happened last night.

I showed up at his house, we had a glass of wine. One drink turned into finishing off three bottles of wine. Or was it more? The throbbing pain between my eyes tells me that we might’ve had more.

Although it’s a little foggy, I remember playing cards with Jude. I remember spilling the wine, and I swear I remember a moment with him that almost felt like…more. I swear I remember our lips brushing against each other’s for a moment. I swear I remember him looking at me in a way he’s never looked at me before.

But I had a lot of wine. I don’t know if my mind’s playing tricks on me.

Everything after us playing cards is a blur. I don’t know everything that happened.

I squeeze my eyes even tighter, as if that will force the memories of the rest of the night to appear.

What happened after we stopped playing the game?

I remember standing in Jude’s closet. Maybe that’s when I changed out of my shirt and ended up in his. But something gnaws at my memory. Something more. We were both in his closet, but I swear I remember an intense look in his eyes as he helped me out of my shirt and into his.

I open my eyes, knowing I have to be imagining things.

I look over my shoulder again, trying to remember what led us to cuddling on the couch. I close my eyes again, but for the life of me, I can’t remember.

I sigh, beginning to slowly slide off the couch. I need to find my phone and figure out what time it is. I have to work thismorning, and it’s going to take me longer to get ready, thanks to this hangover.

I’m also going to have to go back to my place and get a clean uniform.

My home.

Reality hits me as I remember what even led me to show up at Jude’s house in the first place.

I need to find a new place to live.

I stifle a groan, wishing I hadn’t had the bright idea to forget the fact that I have nowhere to live this summer. If I hadn’t drunk so much, I wouldn’t have ended up cuddling with my guy best friend all night. I wouldn’t have woken up and immediately started panicking that we kissed last night.

My foot softly hits the ground as I try to inch myself off the couch even more. I don’t know if it’d be better to lift his arm off me or if I should continue slowly rolling away, allowing his arm to gently fall against the plush cushion of his couch.

I opt for the latter option, taking my time slowly rolling my body away from his until my other foot hits the ground and I’m no longer on the couch. I pause for a moment, watching him closely to make sure he stays asleep.

From what I can remember, he drank just as much as I did, maybe even more. All I can hope is that he’ll wake up with fuzzy memories like I did too. We’ll be able to pretend nothing happened, and things will never be awkward.