I shouldn’t have kissed him, but even now, I don’t regret it. It was the best kiss of my entire fucking life, one I can never repeat. I can’t give him what he wants. I can’t ruin the friendship between us, but the idea of someone else giving him that makes me murderous.
Mackie can’t be mine, but the idea of him being someone else’s . . . I can’t handle that either.
My hand drops as my thoughts spiral again, imagining that pretty boy kissing my boy and taking what’s mine.
I wonder if he tastes me on Mackie’s mouth. I wonder if he knows I was there first. I wonder if Mackie will moan like he did for me.
Climbing to my feet, I turn the music off and stomp upstairs to shower. I need to distract myself, but even when I collapse into bed after, my mind won’t turn off and sleep evades me. I lie here for hours, watching the clock.
Did he get home okay?
Did he have fun?
Rolling over, I grab my phone, type out a text, and send it before I can second-guess myself.
Noah: I need you at work early tomorrow. You better be sleeping.
There’s no response, not even a read receipt. Does that mean he’s asleep? Or what if he’s busy?
Rolling onto my front, I scream into my pillow like a fucking teenager. It stopped smelling like him weeks ago and I hate it. I hate everything about this.
I keep hurting him. I wish he could understand why, but I know what Mackie is like. He’d see it through until the end. He never gives up.
No, it’s better this way.
It’s better if he falls in love with someone else, someone who can take care of him and give him what he needs.
I do not sleep all night, however, grieving what I lost before it even began.
TWELVE
Iwake up earlier than I have in a long time, shower, dress, and watch the clock for when I need to leave. My knee bounces restlessly. I tell myself it’s because I hate when people are late and I don’t want Mackie to worry about work or be upset.
That’s all.
Checking my watch again, I chew on my bottom lip before thrusting to my feet and grabbing my keys. I can pick up food for us on the way, and that’s the only reason I leave so early. I’m not sure what his favorite breakfast is, but I phone in an order and swing by before lingering outside his apartment.
I’m still twenty minutes early, so I lean back in my seat, sipping my coffee as I wait, but five minutes later, I see him appear at the entrance to the building. His hair is perfectly styled, catching the light, and his oversized racing jacket dwarfs him in an attractive way as he looks around before shoving some sunglasses on and pulling his phone out. I watch him for a moment as he glances at it and then scans his surroundings, disappointment etched in his expression.
Adorable.
Smiling to myself, I climb from my car. “Mackie,” I call, drawinghis attention, and his lips curve in a wide smile when he sees me. He hurries over, almost running. I walk around and open his door, and Mackie climbs in, shoving a bag in the back as I shut his door and head over to mine. Once I’m back in the car, I reach over and fasten his seat belt, feeling the warmth of his body and smelling his cologne. “You smell good today,” I say before I freeze, my eyes widening as I glance at him. “I mean, I bet you do every day. The cologne you’re wearing . . . I meant?—”
His laughter makes me smile shyly. “Thanks. What’s this?” He nods at the bag on the dash.
“Oh, I got you some breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but I figured there would be something in there you could eat while I drive,” I reply.
He shoves his glasses up for a moment and stares at me, and then he swings his gaze to the bag. “You bought me . . . breakfast?”
The way he says it has me shifting awkwardly. “Um, yes? Is that okay?”
He turns his head to look at me again, and a wide smile spreads across his face, the sunlight making him so beautiful and bright, it steals all my senses. “More than okay. Thank you, Conan.” He grabs the bag and starts to look through the contents, but I’m still staring, and he must notice because he blinks up at me. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yes, sorry.” Coughing awkwardly, I turn on the engine and focus on the road, my grip tight on the wheel as we drive toward his work.
“You said you had a shoot today. Tell me about it,” he inquires, all while shoving fruit in his mouth until his cheeks puff out. I don’t dare tell him how adorable it makes him look, and I bite back my smile.
“Oh, it’s not very interesting,” I say, and when I glance over, he’s watching me with an arched brow. “What is it?”
