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“Thanks.” I take it, then head into the bathroom.
There’s an array of toiletries on the counter, just like Teddy said. I use a disposable toothbrush to brush my teeth. Wash my face with a soap that smells like oranges. Use the bathroom and pull the elastic out of my hair before changing into Teddy’s T-shirt and opening the door.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed closer to the door, scrolling through something on his phone. When the squeak of hinges announces my return to the room, he doesn’t look up right away. It feels like a deliberate action somehow. I kick off my sandals and pad across the carpet toward the unoccupied bed.
“All set?” Teddy’s voice is all gravel. Deep and rumbling. The rasp slides over me and settles in my belly.
“Yeah.”
Bad idea.Those two words are on repeat in my head. This isn’t a situation I’d end up in with anyone else. I haven’t shared a room with someone since college. “Heartbreak for Two” took off my sophomore year. I dropped out of Ohio State when I signed a record deal. Weeks later, I started receiving six-figure royalty checks. Bought the beachfront mansion I still own.
I’ve never been the girl who leaps before she looks. Teddy pulls it out of me.
His gaze doesn’t linger, but it skates over my bare legs and the cotton material of his T-shirt. It’s about the same length as the dress I was wearing earlier. It covers more than that dress did. But there’s something intimate about wearing his clothes, and the way he rubs the back of his neck repeatedly suggests I’m not the only one who thinks so.
“Okay.”
He stands. Walks toward me. Seconds stand still. Slip past without registering. I’m suspended in this moment, held still by the intensity of his eyes.
“That shirt looks good on you.”
I suck in a surprised breath. Of all the things he might have said, I wasn’t expecting him to say that. I figured any interactions during this tour would focus on the two separate people we are now, not on any of our past.
It’s right on the tip of my tongue, the same response I told him eight years ago.“I have a boyfriend.”But I don’t, technically. And all I can think is how different my life might look if I’d broken up with Ricky before moving to middle-of-nowhere, Wisconsin. If I hadn’t had a boyfriend when I met Teddy. He’s never explicitly said it, but I think he would have ended things with Ellie sooner. Before her mom married my dad. Before a romantic relationship with him became a slight against the new family my dad tried to create, not just the bubbly girl who always asked me if I needed directions in the hallway.
Wallowing in the past is never productive. Learning lessons from it is.
I don’t lie. Don’t say anything at all. I just smile, tentative and small, before walking past him toward the bed.
My last glimpse of his face is his eyes closing. The bathroom door shuts a minute later. The tiny motion says what he didn’t—he regrets saying that.
Maybe he thinks I don’t remember the last time he did, standing in the cereal aisle of Dave’s Grocery.
I climb into bed and tug the covers all the way up to my chin. It’s still freezing in here. The sound of the toilet flushing and then water running drifts out and under the bathroom door. I shift in bed. Tug my pillow down and roll over, trying to get comfortable.
A sliver of light announces the bathroom door opening. Teddy switches it off before walking back into the bedroom. The small lamp in the corner is the only source of light. In one smooth motion, he pulls his shirt up and over his head.
I haven’t seen Teddy shirtless since he was seventeen. He was fit then, his arms and shoulders corded with muscle earned through hard work, most of it in my backyard. He’s filled out and filled in since. Broader and bulkier. Tan skin and a sprinkling of freckles and a dusting of dark hair just above the waistband of his jeans.
I’m no longer cold, and I don’t think the comforter can claim much credit. Flinging off the covers because I’m suddenly flushed with arousal is not what this awkward housing situation needs, though.
Ever since his presence on this tour became official, I’ve done everything possible to avoid considering acting on any of the impulses that are all I can think about around him. I told myself our interactions would be professional. Onstage in front of thousands. Backstage with the crew.
Never alone.
Never in a dark room with a bed.Bedsthat don’t provide much distance.
Here we are anyway.
If agreeing to this was a test, I failed. Does he know? Does he care?
If he was single, I know what I would do. I would climb out of this bed and walk over to him and ask if he thinks this shirt would look better off me.
I’d kiss him. Touch him. Finally find out how he tastes.
But he’s not a cheater, and neither am I.
So, I roll over so I’m facing away, trying to ignore the whisper of fabric as he takes off his jeans and climbs into bed. Clench my thighs in an attempt to alleviate the pulsing between them and tell myself this is the last time I’ll ever be alone with Teddy.
Because willpower eventually runs out.
