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“You’re mad at me, right?”
She glances at me for a brief moment before returning her attention to the scenery outside.
“I have a lot of reasons to be mad at you, but I’m not sure which transgression you’re referring to this time.”
If I could safely reach over and snatch her by the chin to force her eyes to mine, I would. But not at the speed I’m currently going.
My teeth grind that she forced me to be the one to bring it up.
“For last night.”
Fuck. When did I become this guy? Most mornings, I simply tap them on the ass and tell them to get going.
“Last night was last night,” she offers in response.
Finally, she looks at me again. “Were you expecting more?”
“No,” I lie.
Because, to be honest, I was hoping for more.
I wasn’t expecting Brinley to keep up with me in bed, but damn if the girl didn’t almost take me out.
Usually by round three, most women are begging for me to let up.
Not Brinley, she just smiled and wrapped her arms around my neck to hold on.
“Okaaaaay,” I say, drawing the word out. “But it’s not like you to just sleep with someone.”
You’re damn right I’m going there.
The morning after conversation.
A conversation I’ve specifically avoided since the day I first got laid.
Yet here I am, having it.
And like a dumbass, I’m the one bringing it up.
“How do you know it’s not like me?”
“I can tell,” I argue.
“How can you tell?”
“Because of how you are.”
This is getting me nowhere. She refuses to say it, and I refuse to say it.
“And how’s that?”
“You’re the type who wants a commitment. Flowers. Romance. That kind of crap. You’re too cautious. Like it should mean something.”
Tears run down her face from laughing so hard.
“Holy shit, Shane. Are you asking me if last night meant something? If anybody is acting out of character, it’s you. I can’t wait to tell your friends. First the clothes and now this?”
My eyes round at that because hell no.
