Page 25

DEAN

“You could have at least told me you were inviting someone over. I would have, I don’t know, put a damn bra on.”

“Don’t look at her tits.” I point to my best friend, who is still standing in the doorway, a six-pack of beer in one hand. “River, meet Nolan. Come on in, man.”

He sticks his free hand out. “We’ve briefly met before, but it’s nice to officially meet you. Sorry he’s an idiot and didn’t tell you I was coming over.”

Shaking his hand, she glares at me.

I shrug. “What? I wanted someone else to watch the game with for a change.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“Weren’t you though?”

I can tell she wants to argue, but she knows I’m right.

Just two nights ago she came home to find me on the couch watching a game. She didn’t even change out of her work clothes, just flopped down on the couch, ate no less than ten wings, and forced me to explain the entire sport to her.

I’ll never tell her this, but it was my favorite game I’ve ever watched.

“I’ll just go work in my office or something. I have a couple things I can take care of while you stare at other guys’ butts.”

“I just want to go on record saying I will not be staring at other guys’ butts. I don’t even like baseball,” Nolan says.

“So you’d be looking at the butts if they weren’t attached to the players?” she teases him.

His eyes widen, panicked.

“Leave him alone, River,” I tell her. “Go work.”

“I’m going, I’m going—but only because I do have a lot of work to do and not because I’m letting you boss me around. I just don’t want to be around you anymore.”

“What’d I tell you about your shortness and that sass of yours? There’s too little of you and too much of it.”

She scowls. “I hate you.”

“Liar.”

Spinning on her heel, she turns to Nolan. “I won’t tell anyone you watch for the butts. I know that’s why I endure it.”

He laughs. “I appreciate that.”

She turns her angry eyes on me once more before stomping off down the hall.

I can’t wipe the goofy smile off my face as I watch her sashay away.

When she disappears into her room, I turn to Nolan, and he raises his brow.

“What?” I say, grabbing the six-pack from his hand.

“Nothing. I like her, man. She’s feisty.”

“If by feisty you mean annoying, then yes.” I motion for him to follow me into the apartment. “First pitch was already thrown. I put the wings in the oven to warm ’em up. I’ll pop these in the fridge.”

I take off for the kitchen and Nolan heads for the living room.

“’Sup, shithead?” I hear him say to Leo.

He made so much fun of me for taking the little guy home at first, but he’s grown attached to him like I have.

I slide all but two beers into the fridge and check on the wings. I’m on my way to the living room when River’s bedroom door opens. I stop in my tracks when she walks out.

Arching a single brow, she lifts her shirt, flashing me her tits.

She drops her top, blows me a kiss, and hurries into the office like nothing happened.

I fight to not drop the beers, scoop her into my arms, and show her there are consequences for acting like that.

Fucking tease.

Morris barrels past me and into the room, running straight to Nolan as he takes a seat on the couch.

To my surprise, Morris jumps right into Nolan’s lap, curling into a ball like he belongs there.

“Cats love me,” he explains with a shrug, running his hand through the cat’s white fluff. He looks around the apartment. “I can see why you agreed to stay here. This place is way nicer than yours.” Nolan grabs the beer I hand him and cracks the top open. “Thanks, man.”

I settle down at the other end of the couch, popping open my own drink. “It’s the exact same apartment, just flipped.”

“Yeah, but this one is… homier . You didn’t have a single picture hanging up in your place and hardly any furniture. It felt…cold. Boring.” He takes a drink of his beer, turning his attention to the game on the TV.

He has a point.

I never noticed how lonely my apartment felt until I started staying with River.

It was the small things, like those silly knickknacks shaped like s’mores she has on the shelves, or the many throw pillows she has piled up on the couch.

Even the lone piece of art she has hanging above the TV is enough to make it feel more like a home and not just someplace to crash.

I didn’t realize how empty my life was before…and I don’t just mean in the literal sense.

Living with River this past month has been absolutely fucking exhausting at times. She’s moody thanks to her insomnia, she’s opinionated, and there’s a certain way she likes things done, which is hard to get a handle on sometimes.

But then there are all the moments in between.

She’s funny. Whip-smart. One of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. She’s caring and dedicated to the people in her life. And as much as she frustrates me, she intrigues me.

For the first time in a long time, I’m not looking to fill my life with activities.

I’m good with just existing in this space with her.

I don’t bother trying to stick around and talk with other teachers at summer school, and I no longer find myself scrolling my phone at the gym long after my workout session is over.

I just want to race home and be with her.

It scares me, considering our arrangement and how temporary it is.

But it also makes me wonder how it would be if we gave this thing between us a real shot…

I relax into the couch and try not to think too much about things I shouldn’t be thinking about. I take a long pull of my beer.

“So, when did you start sleeping together?”

Beer bubbles back up, dribbling out of my mouth and down my chin.

I wipe the mess with the back of my hand, and Nolan laughs.

“What the fuck, dude?”

“Sorry, not sorry.” He shrugs. “So, when did it start up?”

I glance toward the hall, making sure River is still tucked safely inside the bedroom where she can’t hear our conversation.

“What makes you think we’re sleeping together?” I ask when I’m sure the coast is clear. I keep my voice low though, just in case.

He gives me a Don’t bullshit me look. “For one, you’re happier. That means one of two things: your sports-ball team is kicking some serious ass, or you’re getting your dick sucked frequently.”

“Jesus, Nolan.”

“Just Nolan is fine,” he says.

I shake my head at him, and he lifts a questioning brow.

I roll my eyes. “About two weeks ago.” I take another drink of my beer. “But it’s just sex.”

He grins, feeling damn proud of himself, I’m sure. “I fucking knew it.”

“You didn’t know shit.”

“Did too. You usually talk my ear off about this broad, but suddenly you were all clammed up. I’ve known you a long damn time, Dean. When you’re not vocal about what you’re doing, it means you know you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“I shouldn’t be sleeping with her?”

“No, man, you definitely should—you two have danced around it long enough. It’s that friends-with-benefits, just-sex bullshit you’re feeding each other that you know you shouldn’t be doing.”

“Dude, I’m telling you, it’s just?—”

“Sex. Oh, I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because it’s never just sex for you.”

“I’ve had casual sex before,” I argue.

“Sure, but not with anyone you actually give a shit about. There’s a big difference between the two.”

“I—”

Fuck. He has a point.

I’m so tired of him having points.

I’ve known River for a year now. In that time, we’ve been neighbors, enemies, roommates, and now lovers. It’s like once the lines started to blur on what we were, we gave up and jumped in full force.

What we’re doing is dumb, there’s no denying that.

But not doing it doesn’t feel right either.

Because as much as I don’t want to, I like River.

Her.

Not just her body or the way she feels falling apart around me.

Though I don’t want to think about it too much or admit it, I’m going to have a hard time walking away from this when it’s time to go our separate ways.

Nolan grins. “You like her, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be sleeping with her if I didn’t.”

“You know what I mean.”

I groan, tossing my head back and running a hand through my hair, frustrated with myself.

It’s a way to relieve tension and that’s it. Nothing more.

That’s all it is. All it’s supposed to be.

So why do I feel myself beginning to want more with her? I haven’t been interested in a relationship with anyone in a long time. Why the fuck do I suddenly feel like it might not be a crazy idea with River, of all people?

I swear I’m going crazy.

“Does she know?” Nolan asks.

He can tell I like her. He doesn’t have to hear me say it to know.

“No. I’m like ninety-five percent sure she still hates my guts. This is all just sex for her.”

He laughs lightly, turning back to the TV. “Trust me, she doesn’t hate you. She wishes she did, but she doesn’t.”

Fuck me if I don’t hope he’s right.

“Do you always have to hog the bed?”

“Last I checked, it’s my bed—I can hog it all I want.” She shoves at me, trying to force me out, but I’m too heavy. “Why are you even still in here?”

“Because my bed is an air mattress, that’s why.”

And because you sleep better when I’m in here.

I’ve stayed in River’s bed almost every night since we started sleeping together.

Mostly because we’re always fucking or fooling around, but also because it’s become increasingly obvious that she sleeps better when I’m here.

The few nights I didn’t stay over, I woke up to her on the air mattress beside me.

“That’s your own fault,” she says, still shoving and getting nowhere.

Accepting defeat with a huff, she abandons her mission. She reaches over to the nightstand on her side, grabbing her laptop and pulling it over into her lap.

The glow from the screen illuminates her face, and she looks so fucking cute when she’s concentrating.

A wrinkle forms between her brows and she twists her bottom lip in her fingers. Her long red locks are piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and she’s wearing her standard bedtime attire of a camisole and panties.

I keep trying to convince her to try sleeping naked like me, but she won’t budge on it.

“Working this late?” I ask.

“The grind never stops.” She taps the keyboard a few times. “Our online store is doing really well, and I’m getting more items added to the website to meet demands. Plus, I’ve been a little distracted lately and I’ve fallen behind. Or at least my version of behind.”

“You’re very passionate about your work.”

She peeks down at me, and it’s clear she’s going on the defense.

I hold my hands up. “I don’t mean any offense by that. Truly. Your work ethic is inspiring. A little worrisome that you don’t take more time to shut off and step away, but still inspiring.”

Her eyes spark with surprise and something else I can’t quite decipher.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “That’s…well, I like hearing that from you.”

From you.

I don’t know why those two words hit differently, but they do.

They feel…intimate.

That feeling from before, the one that made my chest feel all weird…it’s back.

“You’re welcome.” I clear my throat, rubbing at the spot. “Have you always been such a workaholic?”

She twists her lips up, thinking.

“No,” she decides. “Believe it or not, I actually used to be fun. I guess I just buried my loneliness in work and it stuck. The business has been booming, and I’m hitting goals I always dreamed of.” She shrugs. “So I just never let up.”

I want to ask if she’s still feeling lonely, or if she’s behind on work because she’s no longer hiding behind it. I want to know if that’s my doing or something else.

But that feels too much like crossing a line.

“I can relate. What’s that saying? Find something you love and never work a day in your life?”

“That saying is horseshit.” I laugh at her brashness. “Just because it comes from a place of love and passion doesn’t mean it doesn’t take hard work.”

“True. I’m passionate about teaching, but it’s exhausting as hell.”

“Why’d you go into it exactly? You worked for your dad before you got your degree, right? What went wrong there?”

I wince, not a fan of explaining this part of my life to people. “So. Funny story.”

“People are never about to tell a funny story when they say that.”

“True.” I roll onto my back, putting my hands under my head. I don’t miss the way her eyes trail down my body when the blanket slips down to my hips. “My parents won the lottery and my dad started a business with the winnings.”

“Like legit won the lottery?”

“Yep.”

“So you’re loaded?”

I laugh. “How much do you think teachers get paid?”

“But your parents…”

“ They have money. Holland makes good cash working for my father, but since I ditched the family business and all, I’m on my own.”

“They cut you off?”

“There wasn’t anything to cut off. We grew up scraping by, and when they struck gold, my parents were adamant that aside from a good education, if we didn’t help keep the wealth flowing, we were on our own.”

“That seems…”

“A little ass-backward considering they got everything handed to them? Yeah.” I shrug. “But it’s fine. I’m not into the whole glitz-and-glam lifestyle they’ve adopted. I’m more into the low-key thing.”

“Ah, spoken like a true broke man.”

I chuckle. “And you? How was your home life?”

“Nothing exciting. Parents are still together. No real drama. Picket fence and all that crap.” She lifts a shoulder.

“I grew up about thirty minutes away. I went off to college for a while, and when I moved back, I knew I wanted to live in the city.” She gestures around the room.

“So, here I am. Nothing to write home about.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I say quietly. “There’s a lot to write about when it comes to you.”

Her lips pull at the corners, and if it weren’t for the laptop light, I’d miss the grin.

I close my eyes, listening to her fingers clack against the keyboard.

“What about you?” she asks when I think she’s completely focused on other things.

“What about me?”

“Do you ever hide in your work? Ever feel lonely?”

I didn’t. Not until this. Not until I realized what I might be missing.

“Not anymore,” I say.

She nods once but doesn’t look at me.

I fall asleep trying not to overthink the idea that tonight is the first time I’ve slept in here without the preface of sex…and what that might mean.