Page 7

My dorm is too quiet, too empty after spending the day with Luke and his mom. Jocelyn asked me to stay a second night, and while I was tempted, I knew I couldn’t. The last thing I need is to embarrass myself again by begging Luke to fuck me like I did last night.

He might be the only single guy I know who isn’t down for unattached sex.

And… I like that about him.

Even if it frustrates me to no end and has my libido crying out in desperation.

I set the Tupperware container of food Jocelyn sent me home with on the counter and shrug out of my coat. Tossing the garment onto the back of the couch, I head for the bathroom. Showering will not only kill some time this evening, but with any luck, it’ll help me put off the feeling of utter loneliness that’s bound to hit me.

While the water heats, I typically remove by makeup, but since I stayed at Luke’s, I’ve been bare-faced all day. So while I wait, I pull up a music app and turn on my Bluetooth speaker, then I get undressed and toss my clothes into the hamper I keep in the corner.

I’ve always loved showers, spending way more time in them than I should. Rosie used to get annoyed with my hour-long rituals.

Unfortunately, the long shower does little to distract me from my thoughts about Luke.

He’s got me all tied up in knots, making it feel impossible to stick to my no-dating mantra, because I like him, and the more time I spend with him, the deeper that like goes.

If I’d asked him to stay and hang out tonight, I have no doubt he would have. But after dinner with him and his mother yesterday and spending the entirety of today with them, it felt imperative that I put some separation between us.

Once I’ve pulled on a cozy set of pajamas, I check my messages, finding Merry Christmas texts and others of the sort. I’m hurt, but not surprised, to find nothing from either of my parents.

An afterthought, that’s all I am to them. For years, nothing more than a cute accessory to show off to their rich friends. A way to say look at us. We’re wealthy and powerful and we procreated to make this super baby offspring . Now that I’m an adult, they clearly don’t need me anymore.

Darkness comes early these days, and while I shouldn’t feel so exhausted after doing nothing but sitting on the couch while Luke and his mom exchanged gifts, then lounging while watching Christmas movies, there’s nothing I want more than to climb into my bed.

It’s safe to say my exhaustion is more emotional than physical.

No one’s life is rainbows and sunshine, I get that, but from what I’ve witnessed, Luke and his mom live a relatively happy one. All my life, I’ve been surrounded by families like mine, but I always knew there had to be better out there, and over the last twenty-four hours or so, the Coveys showed it to me.

My father got my mom a Birkin for Christmas one year, and she tossed it carelessly aside. I think I’ve seen her carry it once in the last decade.

Luke got his mom a cute pair of mittens, and her eyes lit up like he’d given her a rare, valuable artifact.

Why can’t you give him a chance? I plead with myself.

Because I’m scared. Breaking up with Tommy for good was painful, but if things ended with Luke, I’d be devastated .

I’m not sure I’d ever recover. Because Luke would care for me in a way I’ve never been cared for before.

Of course, as if he can sense that I’m thinking about him, a text message comes through.

Luke: Hey. Just wanted to check in and see if you’re okay.

I bite my lip, willing my heart not to leap at his consideration and kindness.

Me: I’m fine. Showered and getting in bed.

An instant later, my phone rings, startling me so badly I nearly drop it. Luke’s name flashes on my screen.

“Hello?” I answer, stomach flipping.

He groans, the sound pure sin. “Bertie, did you have to tell me that?”

“What?” I ask, racking my brain for the issue in my simple statement.

“Shower. You. Naked and wet.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” He gives a soft chuckle. “You truly have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Warmth unfurls in my core at the thought. I shouldn’t say it. I shouldn’t let my curiosity get the best of me. But there’s no stopping it. “What do I do to you?”

He lets out a resigned sigh, making the line crackle. I don’t know where he is, but in my mind, I picture him in his bed, leaning against the headboard.

“You make me crazy in the best way. Fuck, I hope this doesn’t sound creepy, but I think about you a lot. More than I should. I wonder what you’re doing, if you ate breakfast, what your favorite coffee flavor is, favorite season, favorite color. What you like to read. Your favorite movie. If you’ve slept well.” He groans. “You have me twisted in knots without even trying.”

I breathe in and out slowly, trying to process his words, my hands suddenly shaking. “Wow,” I whisper.

He huffs. “I’m sorry. That was a lot.”

“No, it’s okay.” I brush my hair off my forehead. “Right now I’m getting in bed like I said. It’s kind of cold and empty without you. I know it was only one night, but I liked sleeping with you. I did eat breakfast—you were there for it.”

He chuckles at that, a rough sound that sends shivers down my spine.

“My favorite coffee flavor changes, but my go-to right now is a peppermint mocha. My favorite season is fall. I love wearing oversized sweatshirts and watching the leaves change. My favorite color is pink. I don’t read much, but when I do, it’s romance and usually dirty.”

This time, his laugh is bigger, deeper.

“My favorite movie is a hard one. Right now, it’s probably The Holiday , but frankly, anything Nancy Meyers is involved in is a masterpiece. I did sleep well last night. Better than I have in a while. I think I have my bed partner and an earth-shattering orgasm to thank for that. And you have me twisted in knots, too.” I whisper the last part, the confession falling off my lips more easily than I thought it would. “You scare me.”

“Well, fuck. That doesn’t sound good.”

My stomach sinks at the defeat in his tone. “I don’t mean like that. It’s just… breaking up with Tommy was hard enough. You? I think you could ruin me.”

I can’t believe I’m being this brutally honest with him. I’ve obviously lost my mind.

He’s quiet for so long that I pull my phone away from my ear to make sure the call is still connected.

Finally, he speaks, his voice hoarse. “If I ever have the pleasure of being the recipient of your heart, I promise I’ll care for it better than my own. I will never hurt you, Bertie.”

I close my eyes, soaking in the truth of his words.

Still, the fear that grips me tightens. “I better go to bed.”

He lets out a soft sigh, as if he isn’t ready to hang up, but he doesn’t argue. “All right, good night.”

Holding back a sniffle, I say “night” and disconnect the call.