AllFreeNovel
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“Yeah, but I’d much rather have lunch with my girlfriend than over a pile of quarterly reports with my sister.” Piper freezes momentarily, and I realize what I’ve said the second it leaves my mouth.
Girlfriend.
Slowly, Piper tips her head back, and even though I know she’s been trying not to get her hair wet, a spray of water hits the back of her head as she meets my eye. I’m relieved to see the look on her face isn’t horrified or even apprehensive at my putting the cart before the horse. Her eyes are crinkled in a smile that makes her whole face light up, her cheeks still pink from our time outside.
“How about lunch with your sisterandyour girlfriend?” She gives my waist a squeeze on the last word, and I feel myself relax. “Though, realistically, we could do that now, AllHearts is like four blocks-"
But I cut her off with a kiss before she can overthink, can ramble, like I know she does when she gets nervous, and she melts into it with an ease I don’t think I was prepared for. It catches me off-guard, the way we fit together.
Until there’s a crash outside the bathroom, and we pull apart, her eyebrows creased in concern as there’s another loud noise, and while the moment is gone - I don’t think I’ll be able to stop smiling.
Piper
I think Fitz is regretting all of his life choices up to this moment. Truly. That’s how deep the scowl is on his face as I work my wide-tooth comb through his hair the next morning, twisting lines of curls into ringlets on the top of his head.
“Stop. Moving.” I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him where he sits on the edge of my bathroom counter, his head bowed in front of me.
“Easy for you to say,” he mutters, “I’m not yanking on your hair.”
“Right now,” I correct, smirking. “You’re not yanking on my hairright now.” He shakes his head and I squeeze his shoulder. “Stop it.”
“Are you almost done?”
“You’re an impatient little brat. You think this is bad?” I gesture up to the mess of wet hair tied up above my head with a cotton shirt, which probably looks insane to him - but this man has seen me in a Hannah Montana tee shirt with braces and blue eyeshadow. A little curly girl method isn’t going to scare him away. “Try adding another two feet of hair and then tell me how you feel.” He huffs, closing his eyes like he’s trying to steel himself, and then he reaches out one hand, long fingers resting on my hips.
“Knock, knock.” Carla’s voice accompanies the sound of her knuckles on my door as it creaks open.
“In here,” I call, and Fitz looks up at me in horror, effectively ruining the ringlet I was shaping. “Fucking hell.” I squeeze his shoulder again, just in time for Carla to round the corner, where she stops, face contorted like she was about to say something, and then lets out a snort of laughter, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Spa day?” The phone in her other hand comes up to snap a picture, but I bat her away. Fitz may have softened up to me, but I think if Carla posted a picture of this to her Snapchat stories, or wherever else she may share it, even I can’t guarantee he’d ever step foot in this apartment again.
“How was Dylan’s?” I ask, and Fitz shifts in front of me like he’s going to try to get up. I mutter several curses to myself as I finish up the last couple of curls and then dramatically hold my hands up. “See, all done.” Shoulders sagging with relief, he slides off the counter and turns to look at himself in the mirror - I stole one of his UT shirts the last time I was over, so he threw that on instead of the polo. When his fingers move toward his hair, I grab his wrist. “Don’t you dare.”
“Good,” Carla finally answers, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms. “He’s excited about fam dinner.” She inspects her fresh manicure, which I know is perfect because we went together Friday after work. I also know she’s avoiding eye contact because she just dropped a mention of fam night in front of Fitz, knowing full well I haven’t talked to him about coming to our regular chaos get together.
As expected, he meets my eyes, one brow raising as he tilts his head from side to side, inspecting the neat ringlets. “Fam dinner?”
“I’ll leave you two to noodle on that one,” my roommate says, and she meets my eyes, winking before turning to leave. Then she stops, and throws over her shoulder “Any particular reason my Waterford vase is now on top of the cabinets?”
I snort, and Fitz gives me a small smile in the mirror before turning back around, leaning against the edge of the counter and crossing his arms, leaving me to say “Roscoe and Bex might have been a little boisterous in their playing last night.” I wince. “I would be careful in the kitchen, glass from that red cheapo vase traveled basically everywhere.”
“Yeah, my foot learned that one.” Fitz dramatically lifts one of his feet off my tile floor, and I roll my eyes as Carla nods and makes her way out of my room. We did, indeed, spend ten minutes digging a tiny sliver of glass out of the ball of his foot last night, which resulted in a very dramatic spectacle of this giant man squirming away from my tweezers like they were on fire.
“Just gonna need you to get that one down before you leave,” she says to Fitz from the hallway. But the second she’s gone, he turns to me.
“Fitzwilliam,” I start, and bat my lashes for added effect as his eyes tip to the ceiling. I put one hand on his chest. “Would you like to come to our regular shitshow of a family dinner on Friday? It’s a belated Easter celebration, there will be gifts, even for the heathens who don’t go to mass.” His eyes travel to the intricately tied shirt holding up the mess of curls above my head, and slowly, his face folds into a smile. “Anyone who’s anyone will be there.”
“Anyone who’s anyone?” he repeats, reaching out and putting a hand on each of my hips. I step between his legs, letting him push the hem of my shirt up enough to rub circles on my skin. I look at my reflection in the mirror behind him and nearly cackle. Me, in my 5K For the Cure shirt, with another ratty, old band tee holding up my hair. Only, the way his shoulders strain against his orange shirt makes me smile, and I slide my palm up his chest, over the curve of his neck until I see my hand, all my gold rings, gripping at him. His body tenses, the touch sensual, despite me looking like a crazy person. “Dylan will be there?”
Ah, so the tensing wasn’t just because of me.
“He will.” He nods, just slightly, and I put the comb in my other hand on the counter next to him, bringing both my hands to the sides of his jaw and forcing him to meet my eyes. Fitz swallows like he’s nervous. “If you’d seen the mooney eyes those two were making the other day,” I start, tilting my head toward Carla’s room on the other side of the wall, “you wouldn’t be giving it a second thought.” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “What do I need to do to convince you that I’m yours?”
That word,yours, andmine, really, had felt like a declaration that first night in his bedroom, and while filled with lust, with physical need, I didn’t think it meant any less than completely. Totally. Because at this point, who are we kidding?
I’d been his after that first kiss in my room, just a few feet away from where we are now. It’s terrifying, and a little exhilarating, whatever this is. Fitz Westfall’sgirlfriend.
I watch the furrow between his brows ease, his freckled face less tense as he tilts into one of my hands, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Now that you mention it…” His eyes darken, his fingers on my hips tightening, and I let out a strangled laugh, batting him away and stepping back. “Hey, you asked!” I point toward the doorway.
