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“Hi,” I answer, clearing my throat, trying to figure out exactly what I’m going to do here.
“Last night was wonderful,” she says, but her statement sounds more like a question. Her brow is crinkled as she moves to prop herself up on her elbow, watching me. It doesn’t escape my attention that she’s the one holding the sheet to her chest tightly this time.
“It was. You were everything a man could want, sweetheart,” I answer honestly, my voice gruff as I slide my hand against her cheek. I stroke the corner of her lip with my thumb while I try to figure out how to say what I need to—without hurting her even more.
“Why do I feel like there’s a but in that sentence, Thomas?” she asks, her eyes overly bright.
“As wonderful as last night was, it can’t happen again. We’re friends. I shouldn’t have let it go any f-f-farther.” I’m taking my time, doing my best to speak slowly and carefully, not wanting my stutter to get in the way. Knowing I’m causing her pain, however, makes it impossible, and the stutter slips out. I ignore how it makes me feel for once and, instead, concentrate on Lyla. I care about her, but my head is not in a good place. It’s definitely not where I need it to be to start a relationship like she wants. Hell, even beyond that, there are way too many obstacles between us. She’d see Gabby often if she became part of my life.
Shit.
I’ve fucked up so bad. The one person in my life who deserves everything good…I’m going to hurt horribly.
“But I don’t understand. We’ve been dating,” she whispers, the crease in her brow deepening.
“As friends. You’re my b-b-best friend. I c-c-care for you.
“Care for me,” she repeats.
“Yes, you have to b-b-believe that.”
“As a friend,” she replies, although it sounds like a demand. Her voice is still quiet, but it has a bitterness to it that is nothing like Lyla’s normal tone.
“Lyla—”
“You can’t tell me you didn’t want me, Thomas. I was there. I felt how much you wanted me.”
“I was dr-dr-drinking. If I ha-hadn’t, it n-n-never would have happened,” I say, but part of me thinks I’m lying. I’m attracted to her. I might have been drunk last night, but I wasn’t so far gone that I couldn’t stop myself. The sad truth is that I didn’t want to stop. I’m a selfish son of a bitch, and I fucked Lyla because I wanted her. I don’t think that sorry truth will make her feel a bit better though—so, I keep it to myself.
“Don’t!” she cries, sliding off the side of the bed, sheet white-knuckled against her chest. “Don’t you dare tell me you wouldn’t have been in bed with me if you hadn’t been drunk.”
“Lyla—”
“Shut up! Just shut up!” she screams at me, going into the bathroom and slamming the door.
Fuck.
Chapter 27
Lyla
Last night and this morning, I felt like I was on top of a mountain. I couldn’t imagine being happier. Now, I feel as if I’ve plummeted headfirst down into hell. How could I have been so wrong about Thomas? Even as I ask myself that, I know I wasn’t. I worried that I was friend zoned. It seemed weird that he hadn’t at least tried to get to third base. I let myself ignore the warning signs.
I sit down on the side of the tub, grabbing some tissue and dry my eyes. I know Thomas wanted me. He couldn’t have been faking that nor the tenderness he had for me. So, he’s not in love with me. I love him and that can be enough until he finally sees how good we are together—how good we can be.
I just need to be patient. This is Thomas we’re talking about. He’s not Chad. He’s not a user. He’s been nothing but good to me.
I mean, this isn’t the reaction I expected or what any girl hopes for when they make love with a man—especially if it’s her first time ever. But, I’m a realist. People are human, and even if Thomas cares for me, that doesn’t mean he loves me. Now that he knows what we are like together, though, it will be different. He’ll see how good it is. After what we just shared, I know he’ll want more. I just need to go slow. My father always said I was stubborn, and in this, I’m positively going to be.
With my decision made, I go to the bathroom sink and grab my purse that I put on the counter there last night. I run my brush through my hair and find a rubber band. I use it to secure the messy blonde mess in a ponytail. Then, I use Thomas’s toothpaste and my finger to do the best I can to clean my teeth and help my breath. Next time, I need to remember to pack a small bag for toiletries.
