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My eyes widen.
“Shit!” Tyler snaps, slapping his hand over his face. He yawns and heaves himself out of bed. “Shit. Sorry!” he yells. “Hang on!”
“Um.” I push myself up to sitting.
“That would be my sister.” He pulls some jeans on, totally forgetting his underwear, and rubs his eyes.
“I thought she wasn’t supposed to be here for another three days?” I whisper angrily.
“Shit. Me too.” He opens his bedroom door and slips out. “Tessa! You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Thursday, dickhead!” a very British accent replies.
“You told me Sunday!”
“Where the bloody hell did you get Sunday from? Honestly, Tyler. You’re like a child. Sun-hun-day,” she says, enunciating each sound. “I had to call Aaron to get him to get me collected from the airport because you weren’t there and you wouldn’t answer your phone.”
“I guess he gave you his spare key,” Tyler groans.
“No, I’m an expert lock picker. Of course he did.” The door slamming follows her words. “What are you doing anyway? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I’m not alone,” he says flatly.
“You’re not—oh! Oh, bollocks!”
Oh, bollocks indeed. I’m apparently about to meet Tyler’s sister and the only clean item of clothing I have is panties.
Fanfuckingtastic.
“Mm,” Tyler says. “Give me a minute.” He walks back through the door and closes it behind him. He leans against it and covers his eyes with his hand. “Shit. I am so sorry. I swear she said Sunday.”
“It’s okay,” I squeak out.
No. It’s not. It’s not fucking okay. Not at all. I am not ready to meet any of his family I don’t already know.
Shit. No. No. No.
Can I climb out of the window? Scale down the wall a la Spiderman?
“Then why do you look like you just saw a ghost?”
“I’m thinking how lovely it is that I get to meet her?” I offer lamely.
He walks to the bed and bends in front of me. His palms are soft as he lays them on either side of my cheeks. “I know you’re not ready for this yet. I don’t expect you go out there and be best mates with her. I can take her for breakfast so you can leave.”
“Who said I’m not ready?”
The lead weight in my stomach, perhaps? The erratic beat of my heart, maybe?
The panic written all over my motherfucking face?
“I can see it in your eyes, baby girl. You look like you’re about to shit a brick.”
My lips twitch in a mirror of his. “Okay. I’m a little freaked out. A lot freaked out.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“Freaking the fucking hell out,” I admit. “Like, look.” I lift my hand so he can see the tremble there. “This is…big. Like. Yeah. Um.”
