Page 78 of The Has-Been

That’s because you asked him to stay. And he did.

Liam’s standing by my window, smiling as he mouths: Brennan. I can hear his friend yelling over the phone. I rub my eyes and take several long drinks from the water resting on my nightstand—water I don’t remember getting for myself last night.

As my eyes dance over Liam, I quickly realize where it came from. I gulp down several drinks, but it doesn’t do anything to quench my thirst.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, I curse silently. Why did you let this happen, Aubrey?

“I wouldn’t show my face at practice either if I were him.” He keeps glancing back at me, like he’s worried I might run away before he can get off the phone. “Look—” he says quickly. “I haven’t heard from him, but if I do, I’ll let you know. I gotta go, man. Talk later.”

I hear Brennan scream, “Lia—” but Liam ends the call.

I pretend to check my own phone. I woke up to several notifications—texts from June and Rory about where they were staying last night. I’m surprised I don’t see anything from Reese. She wasn’t home when we got here last night, and I briefly wonder why she didn’t send me a text to let me know where she was. Before I can click on her name and type out a quick message to check on her, fingers wrap around my phone and toss it onto the bed.

I swallow my nervousness as I feel Liam’s gaze devour me. He’s still wearing the gray sweatpants, and damn—how did I forget how slutty gray sweatpants are on men? It’s like lingerie—leaves nothing to the imagination.

When I finally find the courage to look at him, I realize he took his shirt off before falling asleep last night. It’s hard to look at anything other than his sculpted abdomen and bulging groin, currently at eye level from where I sit on the bed. It’s practically staring me right in the eyes.

As if sensing my discomfort at staring at his waist, Liam pulls me up, his well-muscled body forcing mine to stand before him. He cups my face with both hands.

“Don’t make this awkward, Aubrey. We’ve slept together countless times—why is this any different?” He tilts his head to study me.

But it is different—different on so many levels.

Last night never should have happened.

I made a mistake. I should have sent him home.

I should have told him the truth.

But my thoughts dissipate as Liam takes a step toward me.

I take a step back.

The backs of my legs slam into the bed, nearly knocking me over, but I manage to keep my balance. Liam presses his body into mine with so much force that I have to put a hand on the mattress to keep from toppling again. Slowly and seductively, his gaze slides over my body.

I curse silently as my hand reaches out to touch him, my fingers ghosting over his skin—tracing an invisible line from his pec down the ridge of his chest, over each swell of muscle lining his stomach, lower and lower still…

Until Liam snatches my fingers, stopping them before they can go lower.

“Bullshit, Aubrey,” he says, cool and clear as ice water.

It was something we always did. When one of us would say something the other didn’t believe, we’d call bullshit—similar to the card game when you think someone is bluffing.

And Liam Anderson just called mine.

I meet his eyes.

“Bullshit, Liam.” I counter. “You aren’t sorry for a fucking second of it. Bull. Fucking. Shit.” I grit through my teeth, reminding him of his own words from weeks ago.

God, it’s too early for this.

He chuckles hoarsely, his chest heaving with heavy breaths—but he doesn’t deny it.

I slide my hands over his chest, savoring the smooth heat of his skin, delicately digging my fingernails in just enough that I know he’ll enjoy it. He licks his lips, lowering his height like he might bend down and kiss me.

I shouldn’t want this.

I need to tell him. I’ve had every opportunity.