Page 123 of Dear Future Husband

I could hear Trey’s snorts of frustration. He rummaged through his drawers, then left with the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut.

I didn’t move from my position of suffocation in the blankets. Even after he reemerged from the bathroom, I kept my face smothered.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, not at all trying to hide his irritation.

“Are you modest?” I asked into the mattress.

“Maybelle.” Trey’s snipped tone had me lifting myeyes to him. He cladded himself in armor meant only for me as his opponent. A skintight, black athletic shirt and black sweats that hung loose on his hips, revealing the band of his black boxer briefs.

“Why are you still here?” he asked again.

Despite all odds, I managed to breathe. “I’m not leaving until we’re friends again.”

His brows furrowed. “Wearefriends—I just don’t want to talk right now.”

I held up the journal. “That’s fine. I have some reading to catch up on.”

We were definitely going to talk, but I didn’t want to push him just yet.

He studied me for a long moment. His green eyes narrowed at me before he plopped onto the bed. “Why don’t you go hangout with your boyfriend?”

If I weren’t trying to get on his good side, I would tease him for sounding jealous.

“I don’t want to hang out with him,” I said instead.

“Why?”

His eyes speared straight through my chest, making my lungs cave in as I breathed.

“Because I want to be with you.” My heart hiccupped on the admission, but Trey didn’t see it for the profession it was.

Instead, he tore his eyes from me and drove his hands through his wet waves. “Fine.”

I returned to my journal while he pulled out his homework. I watched him from the corner of my eye, palms clammy with how easily that declaration had leapt from my lips. My heart rampaged against its cage like it could break out and run back to him, where it belonged.

The fan above us, the occasional creak of the bed from adjusting and the turning of pages filled the still moments. I peered up, catching him staring at me from the corner of my eye. When I faced him fully, he looked away. So, I stole glances, only turning away when hetwisted to me.

Soon it became a game of quick stolen looks that turned into longing stares. I’d look at him over my book, and he’d peer back.

“What?” I asked, brows raised.

“Nothing.” He shrugged, and we both went back to our tasks. But minutes later, Trey peeked over at me, and I met his green stare.

“What?” he asked softly.

“Nothing.”

Both of us smiled as we returned to our homework and book.

I let the silence, our silence, carry for a few more moments before I finally whispered, “Trey.”

He looked right at me, focus stripping. “Yeah, May?”

“Can we talk now?”

“I have nothing to say,” he said, fast enough I felt the progress we made in the quiet fall apart.

“Yes, you do. We both do.”