Call me a coward.
Facing him this morning wasn’t something I was ready to do, which is totally unlike me. Noah knows me, down to my very bones, but—I don’t know. I need to put a bit of space between us to let myself think.
Last night was a monumental moment. I can feel it, right in the very core of me, in my soul, but I just don’t know what that looks like.
Nothing big, I hope, just some cold feet, maybe. We’ve never crossed the line between friends and more, and of course I knew agreeing to let him get me pregnant would come with all that naked dancing; I just hadn’t anticipated how I would feel. Or maybe I had, and I just thought I’d be fine.
I’m still feeling him; there’s a soreness between my legs, ever present, especially when I sit down, an ache I feel every time I move. What makes it worse is that it throws me right back to last night, to his body moving on top of mine, his hands bruising where they held me, and I get wet all over again. It’s ridiculous.
Here I thought I had total control over my body.
Apparently when it comes to fucking my best friend, all sense of bodily autonomy goes out the damn window because he can fucking own me.
No.
That’s bad.
That crosses all kinds of boundaries and every line drawn between us.
Once I’ve showered and braided my hair, I pull on a cute floral-printed skirt and cami, and then walk the couple of blocks to my shop, stopping at my favorite coffeehouse on the way. There’s a short queue when I enter, a bell jingling as the door opens and closes, and I join the end of it, pulling out my phone to check for messages.
There’s only one.
Noah: Coffee on me, cricket.
I frown at the screen, rereading the four words over and over until I reach the front of the line. If overthinking were a person, it would be me.
“Sidney, right?” The girl behind the counter beams at me, “You come in every day.”
“That’s right,” I blink at her.
“Iced caramel latte? Extra shot?”
“Yes,” I tuck my phone away. “Please.”
I pull my wallet from my purse, but the girl waves me off, “It’s covered.”
“Noah?” I gnaw on my bottom lip.
“That’s the one! He called ahead. Your coffee is covered for the month.”
“The month!?”
“He’s so sweet,” the girl practically swoons on the other side of the counter, “You’re a lucky woman.”
Swallowing thickly, I nod, “Yep. That’s me.”
Her brows twitch with a frown, “Your coffee will be done soon.”
Thanking her, I move to the end of the counter and bring my cell back out.
Me: Thank you for the coffee.
The text is read immediately, three dots appearing a second later.
Noah: I missed you this morning.
I shift on my feet, thumbs hovering over the screen as I try to figure out what to reply. Another text comes in before I can.
