Page 31 of Learn Your Lesson

I stopped chewing, holding his gaze a moment before I swallowed and nodded. “I think I’ll take that milk now.”

He poured me a glass, and I washed down the dry cookie in my throat before finding his gaze again. How he could look tired and yet devastatingly handsome at the same time was a very unfair magic trick. Somehow, the bags under his eyes only made him more enticing. Paired with the way his long hair was half-contained by a hair band at the nape of his neck, and half-mussed by what I assumed was him running his hand through it, he looked like a paid model for an underwear ad.

At least he was wearing pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

I probably would have fainted if he was shirtless.

“I’m sorry it’s been hard,” I finally said when I could speak again. “But… hopefully this is the start of it being easier. Hopefully I can help take some of the pressure off.”

He nodded, his eyes finding his hands again. “So… midnight existential crisis, huh?” He cocked an eyebrow when he looked at me again. “This a nightly occurrence?”

“Close to it. Sometimes I go a few days without one, but that’s rare.”

“And what is it that keeps you awake?”

“Oh, you know, thoughts of how we’re a tiny marble of life floating in space, in a universe where there are more stars than grains of sand on Earth.”

“Is that all?”

“And how I’m twenty-six and single, with three cats and no real friends, and no real chance of meeting anyone since I’m devoted to my job and have exactly zero interest in going out or talking to men.”

He nearly spit out his milk at that last confession, and then blinked several times, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist before opening his mouth and shutting it again.

“You asked,” I said with a smile, and then I dunked another cookie in my milk and popped the whole thing in my mouth on a shrug.

“You act like twenty-six is old.”

“I’m not saying it’s old,” I argued. “I’m just saying that I could have a serious boyfriend if not a husband at this age, but instead I have three cats.”

He wrinkled his nose at that, which made me chuckle.

“Why don’t you go out?”

“Because it sucks,” I said on a laugh, arching a brow at him. “Come on. You of all people strike me as someonewho knows that fact, too. When your teammates go out after a game, do you join them?”

“Absofuckinglutely not.”

“See?”

“But I’m a dad,” he pointed out.

“Well, I’m a homebody,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t like it. I don’t like the big crowds of people, or strangers pushing all up on me, sweaty and drunk. I don’t find it fun to stand in the middle of a bar or club with lights flashing and music pounding. Trying to scream over the noise to have a conversation?” I cringed. “No, thanks.”

“You make some good points there,” Will conceded.

“I like being home. Home is… nice,” I said with a smile. “It’s cozy. I like to sew, or do a puzzle, or hang out with my cats while I read a great book.”

“Maybe you should just have friends over for a night in, then.”

“Sure. Doesn’t help with the dating situation, though, does it? Can’t exactly ask a guy from Hinge to come to my place for our first meeting. Not without risking death or abduction, anyway.”

That made his face harden into stone, like he was something between a jealous boyfriend and an overprotective father. Not that I’d know what either of those actually looked like — but I could imagine.

“Anyway, it’s fine,” I said, waving him off. “Anxiety manifests in strange ways. I’m actually okay with this. In about an hour, I’ll be soothed and have a belly full of sugar and will go right to sleep.”

Will smirked at me — yes,smirked— and the sight of that slight curl of his lips made my thighs clench together.

When his eyes slowly raked over me, I nearly combusted.