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“And I guess you were too busy living your wildest dreams to ask for a charger,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking.
“Pretty much.” I bit my bottom lip, willing my cheeks not to blush while knowing it was pointless.
Tarryn's lips spread in a satisfied smile. “Good for you, girlie-girl,” she praised, leaning against the doorframe. “I'm glad it happened. I mean, I know you would've been fine with a little bit of conversation, but if hot sex was in the cards, then—”
“Um, is there a reason why we're having this conversation in the hall or …” I looked down both ends of the hallway, making sure we were still alone.
The time for brazen risk-taking was over, and I was no longer feeling bold enough to discuss my night of passion in an open hall. Now, all I wanted was a shower, a fresh pair of sweatpants, and a nap before heading back home to my regularly scheduled life.
But Tarryn wouldn't let me in.
“James is asleep.”
Closing my eyes and sighing, I replied, “Of course he is.”
“And he doesn't like to cover up when he sleeps,” she added, peeking into the room, “apparently.”
After nearly three decades of being connected at the hip, I wasn't a stranger to Tarryn's sexual escapades. She was the queen of one-night stands and played the part unapologetically. It wouldn't be the first time I saw one of her lovers in the nude. I expressed as much and pushed the door open to find James, the bartender's, bare ass pointed directly at me.
“He's got a great butt, doesn't he?” she asked, her voice floating along a wistful sigh. “I had a feeling he would, but damn.”
“Yeah, it's great,” I muttered, hurrying past him, still snoring into a pillow, and grabbing my backpack from beside the other queen-size bed in the room.
“For the record,” Tarryn said as she followed me on my way to the bathroom, “if you hadn't gone with Dylan, I never would've brought James back to the room. Just so you know.”
“Yeah, okay.” I snorted, vividly remembering the time we’d shared a hotel room in Vegas and the J-list actor she’d hooked up with in the bathroom … while I was watching TV in bed.
“Don't even think about bringing up Vegas. It was one time, I was drunk, and I swore I wouldn’t do it again,” she scolded, reading my thoughts. She held her hand up to stop the bathroom door from closing in her face. “And why aren't you telling me about last night? I would've expected you to run in here like a little kid on Christmas.”
James continued to rattle the windows with his snoring, but a fog rolled over my mind, drowning him out as I thought about Dylan and the night we had spent together.
The Shake Shack and the fleeting conversation.
The passion that exploded between us and nearly brought tears to my eyes.
The sleep we shared and the moments I woke up from him wrapping an arm around me, pulling my body into his, and cuddling tight.
It had been more than sex and a literal dream come true. There had been genuine connection, honest emotion, and some semblance of common ground I'd never known before.
Yet, at the same time, it all seemed like bullshit.
Because he didn't know who I was, my struggles, or my life. That was my fault—it was a choice I'd made—but that didn't mean I was happy about it.
I was sad.
But it was for the best, so I shrugged and said, “I guess there's just too much to tell.”
“Well, come on. You gotta give mesomething,” she bargained, smirking and holding the sheet tight to her chest. “Was it at least what you had imagined?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said with a nod and a faraway smile, remembering how his teeth had sunk into my flesh and left a bruising mark. “And then some.”
CHAPTER SIX
Dylan
Her absence was known before I even opened my eyes. The space she’d left on the bed was frigid and vast. A gaping chasm, aching to swallow me up.
I pulled myself into a seated position and stared, expressionless, at the crumpled sheets and pillow, still holding the shape of her head.
