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“You’re one to comment, hiding out in my room with your dick still wet while she leaves.”
“At least she came,” he replies. Shame blankets me, and I hate it. I want to crawl out of my own skin. How does he even know that? If he was fishing, then he hit the nail on the head.
“Well done you. Get out.” He leans his elbows on his knees and rubs a hand down his face. “I mean it,” I continue. “Fuck off, Sawyer. I’m too tired and frustrated because I didn’tcomefor this shit.”
He turns back to me, eyes blazing as he stares at me. For a second I think he might offer to help me out, but that’s ridiculous. With a sigh, he stands up and leaves.
Even as tired as I am, I can’t sleep. Half an hour later, after I’ve listened to his conquest leave and the shower go, he crawls in behind me. I’m still awake and am enveloped by the fresh scent of our shower gel.
“I’m an asshole,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I just hate to see you marked by some random person.”
I don’t answer, because I don’t have anything to say to that. What is happening? We don’t argue. Ever. It feels like there’s a tiny wedge between us, and I have no idea how to stop it, even if I’m clinging to him with both hands. Am I second-guessing everything because my crush is growing out of control? Or does he feel it too? He settles in with his arms wrapped around my waist and drops a kiss on the back of my neck before we both fall asleep.
