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“Oh, thanks.”
I find my jeans and hold them against my chest, unsure of my next move.
I do my best not to look, but damn it, I can’t help but let my gaze travel down to the sex lines that point to the part of Caleb I’m now intimately familiar with and that would be saluting me if it wasn’t zipped up in denim.
“Eyes up here, Livvie.”
My gaze snaps to his. “Sorry.”
His half smile is now a full-blown grin as he walks toward me and stops in front of me, placing his hands on my hips. “Oh babe, don’t be sorry. I’m up for another round if you are.”
With a sigh, I run a trembling hand through my hair that I’m sure closely resembles a bird’s nest. Every cell in my body below the neck is saying to go another round with him. Stay with him. See how it goes.
But my brain cells are telling me that I already know how this will go if we don’t get back to the friend zone soon. Eventually he’d tire of the long distance and we’d break up. Caleb being Caleb would go back to his manwhore ways, and our friendship would be ruined.
Last night was amazing, but I need to get my head back to the safety zone. I can’t lose my best friend.
“I need to go.”
He narrows those beautiful brown eyes at me. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing? I’m going to my parents’ house. That was my plan all along.”
He takes a step back, his hands sliding off my hips. My stomach dips at the loss of contact.
His gaze falls to my bag sitting on the floor as if noticing it for the first time. His lips flatten into a hard line.
“Yeah. I guess it was.”
He turns away from me and stalks into the kitchen. The cabinet door slams and the coffee maker starts.
I finish dressing and head into the kitchen.
Caleb’s back is to me, his shoulders hunched, and that stupid organ in my chest clenches. “Hey.”
He lifts his head and turns around. Crossing his arms in front of him, he leans back against the counter. “Hey.”
“Are you mad at me?”
He shakes his head and looks at the floor. “No, I’m not mad at you.”
“Come on, Caleb. I know when you’re mad. If it isn’t me, what is it?”
“I’m mad at myself.” He lifts his head and looks at the ceiling. “Fuck me, I should have known better.”
I stand across from him in the narrow galley kitchen. “What are you talking about?”
He lowers his head and pins me with a stare that I don’t recognize on him. I can’t decipher the emotions swirling in those chocolate-colored depths.
“I—” He stops and shakes his head. “No, I can’t do this.”
He shoulders past me and heads to his bedroom. I follow behind him, unsure of what to do.
Panic claws at my throat. What was he going to say?
When I enter the bedroom, he’s shoving his feet into sneakers and pulling a hoodie over his head, his face lined with pain at the movement. “Caleb, where are you going?”
He ignores me, shoving his wallet in his back pocket and grabbing his keys.
