Page 52 of Dear Future Husband

Half of my face beamed at him, while the other half remained plastered into my pillows.

“You heard me.”

I gave his cheek a quick pat, then curled back in on myself. He was still crouched next to my bed, eye level with me, watching me with a smile tugging at his lips.

“So,” I started as I yawned, sat up and stretched my arms up into the air. “That do we have planned today?”

Still watching me with that slight smirk, Trey shrugged. “I have a couple of ideas. I have a date at noon. After that, I’m all yours,” he said as he draped his upper body across the bed next to me.

A date… Cool, cool—perfect timing because around noon I was going to be throwing myself off the Golden Gate Bridge. Yeah, we barely knew each other—or I barely knew him—but come on. A date? What was he doing going on dates with other girls during the little time I had with him?

To mask whatever was happening in my head and the tightness in my chest, I went with what I knew best: childish teasing and fake confidence.

“Oh, a date, hmm? Is she cute?” I waggled my brows down at the muscled, tanned boy that had the audacity to lay himself across my bed like he owned it.

Well—I guess he did.

Trey quirked a brow. “Yeah, she’s way cute. Knownher forever. I think you’d like her.” He rolled up onto the bed, his back against the wall, his arm lazily propped behind my back against the pillows.

“Well, you have fun with that,” I said as I scrambled away, putting distance between me and what I wished was breakfast.

My legs felt strong under me today, even after all the work I put them through the last couple of days. I wobbled but successfully made it to my door and opened it.

“Thank you for keeping me company last night, but I better get dressed and ready for the day.” I forced an overly wide grin as I held the door open and gestured for him to leave.

Trey stared, a sly smile now teasing his enticing lips. This defiance was a large contrast from the paranoid boy that treated me like a fragile, glass doll last night and I liked it.

“I mean, unless you’re wanting to stay for the show?” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “I don’t think your date would quite appreciate it, but I don’t mind the company.”

His face burned bright red.

Check mate.

He stood from the bed in all his shirtless glory. I would’ve shamelessly swooned if not for my bitter pride. He strolled confidently up to me, but I refused to retreat. Stopping only inches from me, he dipped his head in close.

“You’re right,” he said in a hushed tone that had me instinctively and stupidly leaning toward him. “She wouldn’t appreciate that.”

And I was left alone, on the threshold of my bedroom door. He sauntered away while I held my breath, worried that if I exhaled, it’d be a loud curse that escaped my mouth.

I skipped breakfast to avoid Trey and the odd jealousythat now racked me. Instead, I entered the bathroom, showered, and washed my matted curls.

Wrapped in a luxurious, fluffy white towel, I exited the shower, my wet hair falling down my shoulders and back, past my butt.

Turning to face the mirror, I took another towel and scrunched it in my sopping curls. Over the last week or so, I did what I could to avoid the mirror, never taking time to study the reflection in front of me. That first day I looked in the mirror, I was genuinely scared of what I saw.

The being before me was pale, frail, and stale looking. Like the life had been sucked clean from me, down to the bones. Now the figure that stared back smiled, cheeks pink, hair bouncy, body filling out in certain previously caved in areas. I felt pretty and finally could recognize bits and pieces of the girl pictured in those three frames above my bed.

I was awake. I wasalive.

I dressed myself in a simple, cotton, heather-gray, capped sleeve shirt, and straight leg whitewash jeans. After getting dressed, I tossed my mass of drenched curls around, trying to decide what to do with them. A minute of contemplating passed before I left it alone to dry freely.

Exiting the bathroom, steam rolling out with me, I found Trey leaning against the door frame. His eyes went wide as they fell on the damp curls that coiled around me.

“What?” I asked, resting against the opposite side of the frame.

He wore a plain black shirt that hung tight to his chest and shoulders with well-fitting dark jeans. His brown hair was wet, like he too just got done with a shower.

Trey pulled his gaze from my hair, giving me a full once over before landing right back on my curls. His hand lifted to grab a long lock of my hair, twirling thestrands around his finger as he held them up between us.