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Since when do I get tongue-tied around men? Around Micah? This isn’t high school. A boy isn’t asking me to a damn dance. I am an extroverted, grown-ass woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone. My step has never faltered. Neither have my words.
Until recently.
One more circle on my wrist and Micah releases me. My skin prickles where we were joined. I want to wrap a hand or glove or bandage around the area. Trap the sensation so it will stay put. But I fight the urge.
“You look beautiful.” The soft edges of his voice warm and soothe the wild organ beneath my breastbone. “See you in a bit,” he says, then turns back to the bar and helps a waiting customer.
I shake off the daze that is Micah Reed and exit the bar alley.
Once I check in with the staff, I enter the office and lock the door. If I were the only manager on duty, the door would remain unlocked. But with us both here tonight, locking isn’t an issue. Plus, I need solitude.
After catching up with the paperwork, I busy myself with straightening the office. Organizing drawers and tidying shelves. Rearranging the folder icons on the computer desktop and shifting furniture in the room. I do any possible thing to avoid exiting the office.
It sounds cruel—ignoring Micah—but I don’t know what else to do. Last night, we agreed to friendship. But shortly thereafter, I kissed Micah. Jumped right over the friendship line. Possible presumptions were made. Thoughts strayed—at least mine did.
For now, I need this—us—to slow down. I need time to marinate in the idea of more with Micah. Again. Need time to consider how I might feel if Red Dress is pregnant.
I won’t ghost him again. But with the weight of the situation hanging overhead, it only seems fair for me to be a little selfish. Right?
* * *
I scrunch up my nose and swat the air. Dust or a bug or hair tickles the tip of my nose. Pinching my eyes tighter, I rub the heel of my palm over my nose. As I drift back to sleep, whatever it is tickles my nose a third time. Bolting up in my bed, I flail my arms.
“Ow!” Reese belts out as I make contact with him.
My eyes fly open and I squint at the too-bright sunlight coming through the blinds. Reese sits on the edge of my bed, rubbing his arm.
“What are you doing in here?” I groan out and fall back on the mattress.
“Well, I was trying to wake you up. Thought we could have breakfast out before my shift at the rec center.”
I sit back up and stare at his faux wound. “Maybe you should wake me like a normal person. Nudge my shoulder. Call out my name.” I purse my lips and lift a brow. “Not tickle my face and wait to get hit.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Throwing the covers off, I scoot out of bed and point to the door. “If you want to go out, I need to get dressed. Which means you need to exit, mister.”
“Grumpy, sunshine.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
When the bedroom door clicks shut, I slump forward, press the heels of my hands to my eyes, and sigh. I love my best friend. Wouldn’t want anyone else as a roommate. But sometimes, he really knows how to get under my skin. And laugh at my expense.
Fumbling through my dresser and closet, I go for easy and comfortable. It’s early and I give no fucks about my appearance. Not after Reese woke me via tickle torture. Once my jeans are zipped, I drag a brush through my mane to tame the scary, then twist it up in a topknot. I slip on my black Vans, grab my phone and keys, and meet Reese in the kitchen.
Reese and I agree to take separate cars so he can go straight to work after. We meet up at a local breakfast and brunch restaurant not far from the apartment. Thankfully, since most morning people have gone to work and it’s the middle of the week, the place isn’t jam-packed.
We get seated and order coffee while we peruse the menu. The server returns with a carafe and fills our mugs. Reese orders as if eating for two while I get biscuits and gravy with a side of hash browns and fruit.
With our orders scribbled down, the server takes our menus and wanders off. Silence stretches over the table as we fix our coffee how we like and take the first sip. No good conversation happens before this moment. At least not with me. I have no shame in admitting this.
“You sleep better?” Reese asks as he toys with the empty stevia packet.
I take another sip of coffee, then nod. “Yeah. Like a rock, actually.”
“What changed?”
“Good question. Maybe it’s all the office cleaning and rearranging I did last night to avoid Micah.” I shrug a shoulder.
Reese’s jaw tics as he glances out the window next to our table. “Thought things were better between you two,” he growls, then meets my gaze.
“They are,” I say in a rush. “It’s just…” I pluck the creamers from the bowl and stack them into a pyramid to buy myself time.
“Just spit it out, Peyton.”
“I may have confused him.” After I stack the last creamer, I knock them down and start again.
“How so?”
