Page 43 of Play the Part (Marsford Bay #2)

HUXLEY

I put a movie on an hour ago, but I don’t think I’ve listened to a single lick of dialogue since it started. I could very well be staring at the wall instead of the TV. I’m considering getting blackout drunk on cheap beer and whiskey just for a semblance of relief from my racing thoughts.

I jump when I hear the door buzzer go off.

Sitting upright on the couch, I check the time on my phone.

It’s just past nine p.m.; maybe Sophia got cut from work and forgot her keys.

Not thinking much of it, I stand up and push the button near the door that opens the front entrance downstairs.

I have just enough time to grab another beer from the fridge and sit back down before I hear Sophia knock at the front door.

“It’s open!” I say over my shoulder, my attention now back on the movie.

The door creaks open.

“Hey …”

It’s not Sophia’s voice that I hear next, but Connie’s. I jump from my seat and do a one-eighty to face her.

“Connie? Hey —” I look down, having an odd reflex to fix myself now, suddenly hyper-aware of my bare chest and sweatpants, then look back up. “I, uh — what are you doing here?”

My question isn’t accusatory. It’s more like a total and complete shock to see Connie standing in my apartment. It feels like my whole body has slowed down, waiting for an answer, rooted in place.

She looks wind-swept, as if she’s been running from something. Then she shrugs, her eyes growing wide and watery. I’m hit with the realization that something is wrong.

Her voice cracks when she speaks. “I — I didn’t know where else to go.” She sniffs, fidgeting with the gold ring on her finger. “I just … didn’t want to see anyone else but you.”

A few quick strides and I’m pulling her into me.

“What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”

She sinks into my embrace. It’s as if my arms around her were all she needed to feel safe, and my heart grows five times bigger. Wretched and used and ragged but beating, beating, beating. For her. Only for her.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, I just —”

She nestles her head into the crook of my neck and sighs deeply, never finishing her sentence as her hands snake around my bare waist.

“I’m here,” I mutter before kissing the top of her head and hugging her even tighter. I gently caress her hair as we spend the next few moments just standing there, holding each other.

I patiently wait for her to unfurl herself out of my embrace. When she finally does, her eyes slowly slide up to meet mine, and my breath catches in my throat.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so much vulnerability staring back at me. She silently searches my gaze. For what? I don’t know. But it somehow feels right.

“Can I stay here tonight?” she asks quietly, her eyes still steadfast and thoughtful.

Her question has butterflies exploding in my stomach. I can’t help but grin as my hands travel over her shoulders and up to her face, cradling her still-cold cheeks.

“You don’t even have to ask,” I answer softly before pressing a soft but lingering kiss on her parted lips.

Her smile is delicate and dreamy when I pull away, and I struggle not to kiss her again and again so that smile can survive a lifetime on her perfect, freckled lips.

The credits are almost finished rolling, but I haven’t moved from my spot on the couch. DK is curled up next to me, Connie on the other side. She’s fallen asleep, her head resting on my lap.

A part of me still can’t believe that she’s here. That her guard is down and that we’ve spent a few peaceful hours watching a movie together. That she came to me for comfort. And that she even asked to stay the night.

It feels surreal after all our fighting.

But I’m not about to let our past ruin this for us.

Ruin this for me.

I gently rock her shoulder to wake her up.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Let’s go to bed.”

I say it as if I’ve said it a thousand times before.

Casual. Familiar. Like, this isn’t just the beginning.

Connie stirs awake and looks up at me with owlish eyes, her head still on my lap.

“Did I fall asleep?”

I chuckle, smoothing a hand over her forehead and into her hair.

“Yeah, sleepyhead, you fell asleep.”

With her hand in mine, I lead her to my room. When I close the door behind us, I do my best not to act like this is the first time I’ve had someone in my room before.

But this isn’t just anyone.

She’s the girl I’m gonna fucking marry.

If she lets me.

We share little to no words, our eyes doing most of the talking. Connie stands near the foot of the bed, one hand clutching her upper arm, watching me rummage through my closet.

I pull a t-shirt off the hanger and walk over. Dropping the shirt on the bed, I kiss her delicately on the lips before I pull her knit sweater over her head.

Freed from the sweater, her hair tumbles back down, and she smiles, staring back at me. Her smile shouldn’t crack me open like this. But it does. Oh, it fucking does.

I drop her sweater on the bed and smile back at her as I softly drag my hands over her cheeks, raking my fingers into her hair before pulling her into another kiss.

Unhurried. Chaste. But the intensity behind the kiss is life-shattering. Altering me the longer I keep my lips pressed to hers.

As I pull away, she reaches back and unhooks her bra. Then, she wordlessly tugs on her skirt so it falls to her feet, and steps out of it. I take a moment to soak her in, dragging a knuckle up her stomach and around the curve of her breast.

“You don’t even feel real,” I say under my breath, barely realizing I said the words out loud.

Her gaze is penetrating when I look up at her, watching me. Usually, I’d be embarrassed that she heard what I just said. But not this time.

This time, I don’t want to hide behind deflection and prickly temperament.

I’m sick and tired of hiding.

She takes a step closer and skates her hands over my chest, my skin breaking into goosebumps under her touch. Her eyes are still steadfast and intense as she looks at me.

“Is this real?” she asks quietly.

I don’t answer immediately, the silence nestling its way between us, warm and promising. Taking her hand in mine, I kiss her fingers.

“So fucking real.”

She smiles again.

It’s relief and affection and fucking unicorns and sunshine all rolled into one.

And I crack open even more.

While she puts on my t-shirt, I undress down to my briefs and slip under the covers. She follows me into bed, the cutest little grin on her lips, while she scooches into my open arm, pressing herself against me. I turn off the light and sigh back into her body, wrapping my arms around her.

The lack of tension between us right now is intoxicating, much more powerful than the head-spinning lust that we usually engage in.

Because this is real.

The realest thing I’ve ever fucking felt, that’s for sure. Is this what it feels like to have luck on my side? No. This is much bigger than just dumb luck. It feels a lot closer to what Connie shared when we were snowed in at the theatre.

Fate.

“Thank you,” Connie whispers, her nose pressed to my neck and tickling my skin.

“For what?” I ask casually, my fingers stroking up and down her arm.

“Just thank you,” she says again.

I smile and kiss her forehead.

“Anytime, pretty girl.”