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He presses my sweat-soaked hair back from my forehead, and I can’t help but ask, “That wouldn’t bother you? To see me with someone else?”
“Again,” he replies, “it’s not sex. But yes, the thought of you wanting to be with someone else does bother me.”
He dribbles water down my arm, watching the rivulets slide off my skin and into the soapy water, and I let his words replay in my mind. That was incredibly vulnerable of him, and as much as I loved hearing it, it drove this knife of guilt in a little further. As much as he portrays confidence and control, there’s a part of Ronan that feels insecure, which guts me to think about.
I reach for his fingers, squeezing them tightly in mine. “That would bother me too. But,” I say, kissing the back of his hand, “I don’t want anyone else.”
“No?” he asks so nonchalantly. “Not someone younger?”
My chest aches at that question. “No. Do you want someone older?”
He presses his lips against the side of my head. “No.”
Then I lean back against him, feeling his hard body wrapped around mine. “Close your eyes, Ronan.”
His head rests next to mine, his breath on my cheek. “Okay, they’re closed,” he says with a chuckle, clearly humoring me.
“Mine are too,” I whisper. Our fingers are mingled, rubbing and touching each other. Our legs are pressed together, and I can feel his heartbeat through my back, so we’re practically fused.
“Right here, in this moment, do you feel any different than me? Just because you’re older.”
“No,” he whispers in my ear.
Then he wraps our clasped arms around my body, squeezing me tight.
“It’s just years,” I say. “Who cares about the difference when it feels like this?”
“That’s right, baby girl.” His voice is soothing in my ear as he holds me.
We sit together in silence until the water cools, not saying another word and not touching each other more than this. I’ve never enjoyed silence with someone so much in my life.
Eventually, he gets out, drying himself before wrapping me up in a towel, our warm bodies pressed together. Then he lifts me like a child in his arms and carries me to the bed.
As we crawl under the covers together, I write another song in my head as I drift off to sleep. This one is about a man who looks good in hospital lighting and the weight of secrets so heavy, they nearly drown me in the bubble bath.
RULE #26: BEST FRIENDS KNOW EVERYTHING
Daisy
“Paris?” Geo asks, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging open. “As in Paris, France?”
“Oui,” I reply with a smile. My elbows are resting on the bar, and I can barely stand still. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so happy.
“Most girls get an hour upstairs in the VIP room,” he replies.
My grin grows wider, so much that my cheeks are starting to burn.
“Look at you,” he says, setting down the bottle in his hand and shooting me a soft expression. “You’re in love.”
I can feel the blush rising as I bite my lip and try to hide my silly, lovestruck face. Which only makes Geo double down.
“Holy shit. You arereallyin love.”
“Oh stop,” I reply, glancing around me to make sure no one overheard that. “I’m notreallyin love.”
He laughs as he picks up the bottle and gets back to work making the drink. “Yes, you are.”
I shrug with a smile. “Okay, maybe a little.”
