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Shock ran over her face. “Hang out? Like…”
“God, will you stop giving me the third degree? I just wanted to duck out and thought you’d like to come. Is that okay?”
“Well, yeah,” she whispered, and then the sass was back on her face. “But that was before I realized your bed is a virgin.” She tapped on the door handle. “I wouldn’t want to spook you. I bet you still have those old Star Wars sheets, huh?”
He smiled. She really was a brat, and he loved it. “They’re Spiderman sheets, and they’re awesome.”
She laughed, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Tonight when he’d held her at Honey’s, it had annoyed him to the point of physical itching that he couldn’t touch her more. But they’d been in public. In front of Matt and all their family and friends. And all he could do was hear Natalie’s laugh and take it in like a friend. Because that’s all he could ever be to her. And at times, he’d been barely that.
He’d seen the look on her face when he’d found her in the corner tonight. Blank. Not sad, not happy, just blank. Like she knew the drill, knew her place, and played that part. But there was so much more to her that not a damn person seemed to realize.
Her laugh alone was life-changing, for Christ’s sakes! It came with a dimple and cute little crinkle by her eye, and fuck, he wanted to make her laugh again. Normally he’d be thinking about other things for her mouth to do. But just then, laughing was top priority.
He realized she wasn’t pushing. Wasn’t going into his room. She was respecting his privacy, as if knowing this was some kind of step for him. Knowing him.
He came close and, damn, she smelled good. When his nose brushed hers, he reached and opened his door handle.
“Enter at your own risk,” he said in his best doom voice.
She smiled, and he felt it just briefly against his lips before she turned and walked in. It was dark, so he flipped on a single lamp on the nightstand by his bed.
“Wow,” she said, slowly moving around his room, the hardwood floor creaking beneath her steps. “This is not what I expected.”
She looked around and he followed her gaze. He was a pretty simple guy. King-size bed, matching dresser and nightstand, all in dark wood. She ran her hands along the stack of books he had by on his nightstand.
“The Last Battle?” she asked, reading the title of one.
“It’s about the Civil War.” She smiled and he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “What? I read.”
She nodded. “Clearly.”
“So what were you expecting?” he asked.
“Honestly? A round rotating bed, leopard print sheets, velvet curtains and—”
“Are you kidding? What else? Was I going to wear a smoking jacket to bed?”
“I was going to say that I’d assumed you’d have a cage with a dancing girl in it but, sure, a smoking jacket completes the look.”
“Such a smart-ass,” he said, and smacked her butt. She grinned and laughed.
“I just…” She started, then trailed off.
“What?”
She looked him dead in the eye, and it was nearly his undoing. “You should let people see the real side of you more often.”
He frowned. “I do.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re all flash and busy and sexy and popular.”
“I’m not seeing the down side here.”
“There’s more to you, East. More than a night.” She looked around his room again then back at him. “More than a lonely room.”
That hit him hard. “I’m never lonely,” he said, but even he didn’t buy it.
She nodded. “Yeah, neither am I.”
