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God, Ram must think I’m pathetic after writing that. But, to be fair, he showed up after those texts, so I might not be the only asshole in the room.
Glancing up at Ram, he stares back me, and looks like he’s about to crack up.
“You look a little embarrassed,” he says.
I fill my lung until they hurt and hold my breath. Maybe if I hold it in long enough, I’ll pass out and won’t have to sit through this humiliation any longer.
“I am,” I say, the breath rushing out with my words.
His smile deepens the lines around his mouth. Those lines seem to be a permanent fixture on his face, which means he must smile a lot. “I don’t know if you’re embarrassed enough, though,” he says thoughtfully.
“Oh my God,” I say, blanching. “How bad was it?”
He shrugs. “Pretty bad.”
My throat goes dry and I try to swallow. “What did I do?”
“Do you mean aside from trying to rip my shirt off and grab my dick?”
“Oh. My. God.”
My eyes involuntarily flicker to the front of his pants before I close them and count to ten. When I open them again, his shoulders are shaking and he’s fighting back laughter.
“I can’t believe I did that,” I say, trying to avert my gaze so I look everywhere but his package that, since he mentioned it, sits at the forefront of my mind. “Did we …”
His smile wanes. “No. You were drunk.”
“That wouldn’t have stopped most guys.”
“I’m not most guys,” he says, the humor gone from his voice.
I feel sick. This is so embarrassing, and it gets worse the longer he stays here. “Maybe you should go,” I tell him. I can’t bear to look at him so I turn away. “I have to take Hercules for his walk.”
“I need to get to work anyway,” he says. “Enjoy the pancakes.”
I listen to his footsteps as he walks away, and when I hear the click of the door behind him, I release the stale air from my lungs. When he’s gone, I look at the food on the stove. It smells amazing and I’m starving. I make myself a plate and sit down. I’m so stupid. I can’t believe what I did. At least I’ll never see him again. This is a small town, but it’s big enough that I don’t have to worry about running into people I don’t want to see. At least not that often, anyway.
I take a bite of the pancakes and melt. They’re delicious. Perfect hangover food.
There are four things I’ve learned about Ram in the short period of time he’s been in my apartment—or at least since I’ve been conscious: He’s gorgeous, knows how to cook, didn’t take advantage of me while I was drunk, and he has earned the nickname ‘Bed Shaker.’ The tickle between my legs makes me think that maybe I was a little hasty kicking him out.
