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Is it totally ridiculous that my heartbeat picks up its tempo at the thought of seeing her again?
I search my brain, unable to come up with a time when a girl has made me this nervous. I’ve never liked anyone enough for that to happen. But that’s exactly how it is with Brooke. The fact that I might not be able to turn this around and change the way she feels about me is like an anchor around my neck, dragging me down.
The door swings open, and Sasha fills the space. The greeting perched on the tip of her tongue dies a quick death as her eyes widen before narrowing to slits.
“Crosby?” The way she says my name sounds more like a question than anything else. “What are you doing here?”
I clear my throat and hold up the coffees. “I came to see Brooke.”
“Brooke?” she echoes, brows snapping together as her face scrunches. “Why would you do that?” Before I have a chance to respond, she straightens to her full height before folding her arms across her chest. “If you’re here to cause trouble, you’re in for a world of hurt.” She uncrosses her arms and takes a step toward me before drilling a finger into the middle of my chest. “I know you and Easton are friends, but he loves Brooke like a sister, and he’ll beat your ass if you even think about fucking with her.” She rams her finger none too gently into my chest again. “Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“Crystal.”
My solemn answer seems to knock her off balance. She studies me silently before shaking her head and mumbling something under her breath. It’s probably for the best that I can’t decipher the grumbled-out words.
“Wait here.”
As I open my mouth, the door is slammed in my face. Two seconds later, it snaps back open, and she points to the cups I’m still holding. “Is one of those for me?”
Even though that hadn’t been my original intention, coffee seems like a small price to pay to smooth over this disastrous interaction.
“Absolutely.”
With a grunt, she nips one of the steaming cups from my hand.
“Thanks.”
Then the door is slammed in my face for a second time. I shift from one foot to the other, wondering if she plans on returning or if I’ve been conveniently forgotten about.
I should have realized that a tentative friendship with Brooke would be a tough sell for her roommate. It only makes me wish I could go back in time and alter the course of our relationship. Or, more accurately, that I hadn’t been such a raging asshole, as Brooke put it so eloquently on the phone last night.
Just as I consider knocking again, the door opens, and I find Brooke standing on the other side of the threshold. She looks as surprised as her roommate was to find me here.
“Um, hi.” Unvoiced questions swirl through her green eyes.
“Hey.”
The atmosphere turns tense as she shifts her weight before tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. A slight blush blooms in her cheeks, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking about my parting shot last night. Trust me, I’d be more than happy to give her a firsthand demonstration. That thought alone has my cock swelling with interest.
Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. “What are you doing here?”
Having almost forgotten about the drink, I thrust the large cup of coffee toward her. “I thought you might appreciate something to jumpstart your day.”
Her gaze drops to the container of java. She blinks, looking adorably confused by the gesture. If anything, it only reinforces what a jerk I’ve been.
“You brought me a coffee?” Surprise laces her voice.
“Yup.” When she doesn’t make a move to grab it from my outstretched hand, I give it a little jiggle. “Here, take it.”
The command snaps her out of her strange paralysis, and she tentatively reaches out, wrapping her fingers around the container. Our hands brush and her eyes widen before darting to mine. She takes a quick step in retreat as if to put a safe amount of distance between us before lifting the cup to her nose and inhaling the pungent aroma.
A sigh escapes from her lips as her eyelids flutter shut. “I do love the smell of coffee.”
Yup, I’m aware of it.
When she’d stay the night with Andrew, she’d make coffee in the morning without fail. When it was ready, she’d pour a steaming cup and lift it to her nose to enjoy the scent before blowing on it and taking that first sip.
Did I happen to pop wood while listening to her sounds of pleasure as she puckered her lips?
Every damn time.
Did I also bite her head off before stomping away?
Almost nearly as often.
But still…as much as it pissed me off to get turned on, I always made sure my ass was in the kitchen, waiting for her to make an appearance. It was a fucked-up situation. One I wish I could take back. Since that isn’t possible, I can only attempt to make amends and hope she eventually forgives me.
