Page 36 of Under My Skin

Chapter Thirty-Six

EVERETT

Simon is streaming The Office again, and at this point, I’ve just accepted this will happen multiple times a year.

Hell, when we used to live together right after college, it may have happened almost monthly.

I thought he had moved on to a new obsession by now, but it only took three days after moving in for me to hear the familiar opening credits.

He was already on season three then, and over the last month, we’ve somehow ended up in season six even though we both work full time.

To be fair, I guess a lot of my work has been done sitting in this chair with my iPad while the show plays in the background like I’m doing now.

I finish up some of the final shading on a water lily shoulder piece I have scheduled for later this week and save the file.

Simon shovels in another bite of his crockpot chicken and rice. “I wonder when Lucy will be back. She didn’t even take the car.” He hunches over his plate as rice falls from his mouth.

I’m wondering the same thing. Lucy didn’t have much to say when I dropped her off at the coffee shop earlier, and I texted her a couple of hours ago to see if she needed a ride. Tapping on her text thread on my iPad, I reread her short response.

Lucy:

Nope! All good.

“Did she say she’s going to your parents’?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice casual.

He shakes his head without taking his eyes off the TV. “I don’t think so.”

I don’t either, but it’s getting late. She sent me that text three hours ago, and it’s been radio silence since.

She hasn’t mentioned seeing anyone else while she’s here.

No old friends from high school she’s trying to connect with from what I can tell.

The only person she’s hung out with outside of her immediate family was me.

Well, me and Troy.

Please don’t let her get a ride home from Troy. I can’t say I’ve ever tried to imagine what Troy does on his days off, but suddenly I can see him sitting at The Steamy Mug across from a beautiful blonde as she sips her hazelnut latte.

My Apple Pencil gently taps the edge of the tablet as I debate sending her another text. I’m not even sure what I would say, but anything is better than sitting here and wondering if she’s somewhere with Troy.

A knock at the door halts my tapping, and my eyes jump to Simon.

He sets his plate down on the coffee table. “I’ll get it. I need to move my clothes into the dryer anyway.”

I nod and try to look down at the glowing tablet in my hands like keeping myself busy might calm my nerves. Why am I anxious? Lucy will walk in here, grab a plate of food, and everything will be like it’s been for the past three nights.

Everything will be normal. And that’s a good thing, right?

I glance at the door as Simon makes his way toward it, practically holding my breath as I wait to see the girl on the other side.

This is ridiculous .

“Hey, there’s food in the crockpot if you’re hungry.” Simon says as he opens the door. He walks down the short hall and out of sight as he adds over his shoulder, “It’s chicken and rice.”

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry,” Lucy says, and she doesn’t go into the kitchen. Instead, she heads straight for me, and my heart thuds in my chest. It isn’t until she takes a seat in her usual spot on the couch that I force a breath.

She’s not hungry. Is it because she already got dinner with someone? I know Troy would love the chance to take her on a date. I know just about any guy would love the chance. Hell, I’d love the chance.

“Hey,” she says softly.

I blink. “Hey.” Here I am thinking about how badly I want to take her out, and I didn’t even greet her when she walked in.

She appraises me with a tilt of her head. “Are you okay?”

Not really. “Yeah. Why?”

She frowns, the faint crease between her brows deepening. “I’ve just never seen you so . . . twitchy.”

I huff a laugh, but as soon as the word leaves her lips, I realize I’m still tapping my pencil, and the foot crossed over my knee is dancing to a silent song. Setting down my iPad, I plant both feet on the floor and rest my elbows on my knees. “I’m fine.”

Her pointed look is only broken by the sound of Simon humming to himself somewhere near the laundry closet.

She glances over her shoulder and turns back to me once she knows Simon is still around the corner and out of sight.

Keeping her voice low, she says, “Listen, if you regret last night, we can forget it ever happened. No harm, no foul, right?”

I hold her stare. That’s what she thinks? I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but I brought her to meet my mom less than twenty-four hours after. If anything, she should be the one running for the hills.

Simon’s voice cuts through the air from out of sight. “Hey, Ev. That bartender from On the Rock wants to bring a friend when we hang out. I told her we could do after nine tomorrow.”

I get to my feet, my eyes never leaving Lucy’s as I call out my answer. “Sorry, I can’t.”

Lucy’s wide, blue eyes stay locked on mine as she tracks my every movement.

“Damn it.” Simon’s voice comes out uneven as he moves his clothes from the washer to the dryer. “You’re the world’s worst wingman, you know that?”

Lucy’s head is forced to tilt back once I’m towering over her.

I look up to check for Simon, but he’s still out of sight.

“Don’t act so surprised,” I say to him before refocusing my attention on Lucy.

Resting my hands on the couch cushion on either side of her head, I box her in.

I only take a second to register the shock in her eyes before I kiss her.

She inhales a sharp breath just before my mouth claims hers, and the way she arches against the couch has me wishing we were alone again.

The dryer door slams shut, and I break the kiss to look at her.

She blinks a few times, the haze in her eyes clearing, but she doesn’t look over her shoulder to check for Simon like I thought she might.

Instead, her attention stays locked on me.

Conviction carries every word as I say, “I regret nothing.”

With her mouth still slightly ajar, she nods weakly. “Okay,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.

Standing up straight, I head toward the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge. Simon goes to pass but stops when he sees me standing with the refrigerator open. Lifting the can in my hand, I ask, “Want one?”

He points at me with finger guns. “You know it.”

Leaning around the fridge the other way, I peer into the living room. Lucy faces the TV, but from this angle, I catch the way her fingertips rest against her lips. “How about you, Luce?”

Her head whips around, her eyes wide like I’ve caught her off guard. “Huh?”

“Beer?”

“Oh.” She blinks. “Yeah. Sure.”

Hold it together, Lucy.

I grab three cans, and head back into the living room as Simon takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch from his sister.

Handing a beer to each of them, I collapse into the recliner and survey the scene.

Lucy seems to have gotten her bearings. Her eyes are sharp again, focused on Simon as he talks about a conversation he had with their parents earlier.

Cracking open my beer, my eyes wander to Simon.

I wonder if he’d care that I just kissed his sister, and I wonder why I don’t feel as guilty as I should.

I go to take a sip, but pause, my lips pressing together at the thought. I might have fucked up. I meant what I said to Lucy—I don’t regret it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I shouldn’t have done it.