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Twelve
The next morning, I woke to the early morning light streaming through the sheer curtains. I blinked and felt as if my eyes were swollen. My head also felt like it weighed a metric ton.
Andrew was nowhere to be found.
My stone of a heart dropped to my stomach. Of course, the one moment I show vulnerability, he leaves. A small flutter of panic, at the thought of my vulnerabilities on display, caught in my chest, but I tamped it down. No. Everything is fine. If he leaves, it doesn’t matter. I still have Michael. I don’t need Andrew.
As my mind raced, the bathroom door opened, and Andrew stepped out in a towel and cloud of steam. My eyes widened before I quickly shut them and cursed under my breath. I hadn’t closed my eyes quick enough to stamp out the memory of his muscles rippling in the daylight, the shape of his lean arms and chiseled abs made more prominent by his damp skin. And those eyes…was that look meant for me? Any straight woman who saw that look would do anything he asked. Except me, I tried to convince myself.
“Can’t you ever stay dressed, Parker?” I snapped.
I could hear the smirk in his voice. “What? Liked what you saw?”
“Get dressed.”
“Maybe if you ask nicely.”
“Andrew.”
I heard some rustling and a zipper being zipped. “Okay, okay, you can open your eyes, prissy. I’m dressed.”
I slowly opened one eye then the other. Andrew stood three feet away, jeans and a T-shirt on, a smug smile plastered to his stupid face. Meanwhile, I felt like a five-year-old for even thinking the words stupid face, in that order, in a sentence.
I couldn’t help noticing that his clothes didn’t cover up all the muscles in his arms. It was a slippery slope to imagining what he had been concealing with his towel.
“Better?”
“Yep,” I said. I bent my knees and lay my head on them. “My head is killing me.”
“Well, your face is killing me, so I guess it fits.”
“Wow. We can now graduate to second grade.”
“You liked it.” The bed sunk down under Andrew’s weight. “No bullshit, though, you okay?”
I shrugged, my head still on my knees. “I’m alright.”
“It took you a while to go to sleep last night.”
“Yeah, I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Andrew was so silent that I lifted my head. He regarded me with inquisitive eyes.
“I’m just tired of crying around you,” I admitted. I gave a small chuff of a laugh. “I cried for what felt like years.”
Andrew shrugged back. “Ace, you know me. It doesn’t matter how many times a day, a week, a month, or a year you cry. I’ll still be here.”
I bit my lip but didn’t say anything.
He stood up and stretched his hands to the ceiling. He walked toward his side of the bed, gathering the things he had in his jeans last night. As he stuffed things in different pockets, he said, “Yasmine stopped by and said that she’d let you sleep in. Something about a rest day?”
I looked up, eyes wide. “You didn’t tell her I was crying, did you?”
“No.” Andrew looked at me as if I told him I thought he ran in the streets naked. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know.” Something about having all of my vulnerabilities on display for him the night before made me blurt, “Knowing you, you would think it’s a good idea.”
His hands froze in midair over his front pocket, keys in hand. “In what world?”
