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“Gross. But no.” I met his eyes though my cheeks felt like they were on fire. “I just don’t care to do it.”
“Do what, exactly?” Andrew’s eyes took on a predatory look, and I knew what was coming.
“Andrew Parker,” I warned. “Don’t you fucking do it.”
“Do what?”
“Andrew, I mean it!”
“Why is it that you’re always accusing me of something even though I haven’t done anything yet?” he asked, his voice deceptively silky. I backed up against the door and held onto the handle. He smiled a wolfish grin and my arms started to shake. As he came closer, I could feel my breath quicken and my heart race. He stopped a foot away from me. I frowned at my body’s reaction to Andrew. Is it just because we’re in a motel room alone? Or is it because I haven’t seen or been around Michael in over a week?
“Last chance,” Andrew murmured. I held onto the door handle behind me with both hands to keep myself upright. My legs weren’t up to the challenge. When did Andrew’s voice get so irresistible?
He pressed closer into my space, watching my breath escape from between my parted lips. There was something ferocious about the way he looked at them. Something purposeful. No one, not even Michael, had ever looked at my face with such intent. I caught his eye just as he looked into mine.
“Three,” he murmured. “Two…”
I closed my eyes, or maybe blinked too long. Whatever the case, I suddenly found myself upside-down and staring at Andrew’s backside.
“Let me go!” I exclaimed as he walked toward the bed.
I could feel him shrug, stopping at the foot of the bed. “As you wish,” he said.
He gently dropped me to the bed and proceeded to wiggle his fingers in my armpits.
Up until this moment, I had completely forgotten that, in a moment of weakness several years ago, I admitted to Andrew that I was impossibly ticklish on every square inch of my body. I also forgot that Andrew collected useless facts about people the way hoarders collect newspapers. I imagined the inside of his mind looked like a magical underground bank, complete with winding tunnels and minions keeping track of everything.
None of that mattered in this moment, though, as I fought to the death to gain purchase.
“Get off of me!” I screeched, somehow rolling and bucking him off of me. I struggled to get on top of him, but he was able to resist. Still, his fingers wiggled in a come-hither motion in my armpits.
“If you don’t stop, I will pee on myself.” I screamed with laughter, completely at odds with my body. There’s nothing funny about being tickled.
“I will take mercy on you under one condition,” Andrew said. I marveled at how calm he sounded, given that he was holding down a 160-pound woman. “You must say this: ‘Andrew is the knower of many things. I am perpetually sullen.’”
“I am not perpetually sullen, and you know nothing, Andrew Parker!”
“Say it,” he demanded. One finger moved from my armpit to the back of my knee. “Do it or I will tickle you until you pee.”
“Fine, fine!” I panted, annoyed that I gave in so easily. “Andrew, you are a knower of many things and I am perpetually sullen. Now get the fuck off of me!”
He stopped tickling immediately but held himself suspended above me. As I came back to my senses, I noticed that Andrew’s eyes were alight with mirth. Figures.
But there was something else there, too. His light brown eyes searched mine, caressing my face, probing it. Though this look was gentler than the previous one, it was no less intense. His shirt was slightly disheveled, and his eyebrow hairs were out of place. I reached up with one finger to smooth them back into place.
“Ace,” he said. I could hear the longing, so much like mine, in the timbre of his voice. This thing between us grew until it pressed against my chest, rested between my thighs. I knew I should move away, but I was paralyzed. Andrew leaned on one elbow and wrapped one of my tight curls around his finger. The only sounds in the room were my frantic breaths and the gentle clanking of the AC unit in the background. My gaze zeroed in on his lips, and I wondered: are they as soft as they look?
Someone knocked.
Andrew cut his eyes to the door and frowned at the interruption. Interruption of what, I couldn’t be sure. “Coming,” he said, swiveling his eyes back to mine. I nodded curtly, sitting up as he moved toward the door.
I fixed my shirt and silently cursed myself in my head. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you move? It was unacceptable. I had come too close to breaking a commitment to my future husband and, given my history with Andrew, sleeping in the same bed with him would be even more temptation.
No matter how cautious I was.
I was a brazen hussy and couldn’t trust myself to be alone with Andrew. Luckily, fate gave me a break and sent Andrew’s flavor of the month from three states over. Helvetica, or whatever her name was. By the time Andrew opened the door and introduced her to me, I was already planning my escape. I flew to the band’s room at the first opportunity. When I got there, they all looked up.
“You look flushed,” Yasmine noted.
