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What a mess.
The only way to begin cleaning it up is to leave before he gets out of bed. As if on cue, my phone informs me the getaway car is approaching. It’s a little cowardly, I know, to run away after a one-night stand. But if that’s all it is, then it won’t be anything new. That’s what you do when things aren’t serious. You go back to your life before they get serious.
I hesitate at the door, my stomach sinking. He might worry about me when he wakes up.
Maybe I should leave a note. I half turn back to the kitchen, but stop myself.
What would the note say?
I had a nice time last night—see you at football!!
Or …
We should talk about this soon so it’s not awkward.
Or …
No hard feelings, whatever happens.
Each idea I have is worse than the last. Shit. It’s better if I don’t say anything. It’s best if I don’t look back. It’s better if I chalk it up to a tipsy mistake and leave it in the past where it belongs.
The future with Jackson has to do with friendship. Because we’re friends. Really good friends. And that’s all we’re going to be.
JACKSON
The thud of the front door is far too soft to be what woke me up. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the pounding in my head from a vicious hangover that did it.
With a foggy mind and a heavy body, I lift myself up before realizing what happened.
Aubree. Holy shit, did that really happen last night?
It only takes a moment of listening to the silence in this empty place before I hear a car door shut out front. Fuck!
I’m sober in seconds, jolting from the sofa and running toward the door although I don’t get far. My foot bashes the coffee table and I seethe, sucking in a deep breath and wincing from the pain.
“Aubree!” I call out as if she could possibly hear me. By the time I get to the door, I realize I’m completely nude and can’t open the door more than a few inches.
The bright morning light blinds me for a moment as I watch the four-door sedan head down the suburban street. Taking Aubree with it and leaving a sense of dread to creep in.
Shit, shit, shit. Running a hand through my hair, I search for a note or for anything at all.
Last night comes back in waves. The drinks, the kissing, fucking Nate texting his friends to flirt with Aubree. I know it was him, trying to prove a point and yeah, he was right.
Seeing her with them … I lean against the wall with my bare ass pressed against the cold surface and regret swarms me.
Last night, I crossed a line, but she crossed it with me. That’s the only hope I have, so I hold on to it. Even though she snuck out. Even though there’s no note.
I’m quick to find my boxers, putting them on and then searching for my phone in the pocket of the jeans I wore last night.
It’s dead … great. Of course it is.
Letting out a sigh, I resign myself to coffee, an Advil and giving myself a moment while the charger brings it back to life.
As the coffee maker sputters and hisses, I remember how she kissed me. The passion and the desperation. A groan leaves me and my head falls back as my dick remembers last night too.
You can’t fake that. She wants me. Or at least she did last night. And it was fucking incredible.
An asymmetric smile pulls my lips up as I add sugar and creamer to my cup and then stir it, the spoon tinking against the ceramic.
Suddenly, the hangover isn’t so bad. My pinky toe that’s stubbed? Not a big deal. The smile lingers until I check my phone, when it promptly vanishes.
Three texts wait for me, and not a single one from Aubree. My heart sinks further down with each.
Nick: I heard you left the bar with Aubree … what’s going on there?
Nate: So you guys do it?
It’s the last one that leaves me wishing Aubree hadn’t run off this morning. It’s from my sister: FYI she’s freaking out a little. You might want to let her know your friendship is still intact.
The phone clatters to the counter as I run my hand down the back of my head, cursing myself for taking her home last night. I should have kissed her and told her I wanted to see her. I should have said one damn thought I’ve had for years about her rather than keeping it to myself.
My phone pings again and although I know it’s not her, I wish it were. It’s only my sister, asking if I even remember last night because the town is now being informed one text at a time.
