I wake up and turn around to find Grey still sleeping. I laugh at how cute he looks: his pink lips pursed, tongue hanging off the side, and his nose scrunched up. I lean over and gently press my lips against the little wrinkles in his forehead. He shifts in the bed and turns around. I laugh into my hand and push my wild hair out of my eyes.
Yawning, I sit up against the headboard and look at the crumpled white sheets. I pinch my swollen lower lip and hold back laughter as I think of the activities that occurred last night. Him between my legs, his hair crazy, damp. His hands clutching my thighs. I glance down and blush at the fading handprints. Me on top of him and rubbing myself on him. I close my eyes and let my hands fall into my lap.
I still can’t believe how perfect last night was. It did not go down the way I expected it to. At all. But glancing down at him and feeling the amazing pit in my stomach, I do not regret it. We didn’t go all the way, but what happened was unforgettable in its own way. I have the strong urge to lean over and squeeze his cheek just to bother him and watch his nose scrunch up in that cute way I’ve noticed, but I really need to shower. And I could use an entire pot of coffee.
With the bedsheet wrapped around my body, I get up and walk into the bathroom. A headache spikes my brain, and I stumble into the sink and groan. I need to take my medication, but it’s at the dorm. Without them, I’ll have a splitting headache all day, and I will not be able to function. Maybe I can take a pain killer in the meantime until I can take the ones I need…
I open the cabinet and search for bottles either labeled aspirin or Tylenol. I shift my eyes all around and end up finding a quarter-filled bottle of aspirin. I shake out two on my palm and swallow it with some tap water. The flavor is chalky and leaves my tongue clammy, but after wiping my tongue on my upper lip, the heavy taste has kind of subsided. I wash my mouth out before gargling and rinsing my mouth with Listerine.
My eyes unintentionally land on Grey’s medication. Still capped and fresh. Filled to the top and not taken by the patient, who is supposed to take them. I bite my tongue, shut the cabinet door, and turn around, drumming my fingers underneath the sink’s edge. I don’t know why it still bothers me that he doesn’t take his medication. It’s his decision if he wants to take it or not, and I’m in no position to demand he does.
I push the nagging thought out of my head and leave the bedroom.
Eyes closed, I enter the kitchen as I belt out a winded yawn. What time did we go to sleep last night? I ask myself and rub my eyelids. The more important question is: How could we go to sleep at a reasonable time when we were doing…unspeakable things? My naughty subconscious drawls like a seductress. A crooked smile curves my lips as I think about Grey and his chest and his fingers and—
“Busy night last night?” a sudden deep voice sounds, and I squeal in fear of a burglar. But then I open my eyes and find David sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of cereal. His eyes do a brief once over, but he stops in respect and grins at me in a knowing way.
“I have no idea what you mean…” I play dumb and give him my back as I reach up and open the cabinet holding the coffee mugs. I can’t believe this. I completely forgot David lived here. And we weren’t exactly quiet last night. What if he’s picturing what we did based on how we sounded? Does he think any less of me than he did before?
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I only arrived around three. I poked my head in to see if Grey was here, and when I saw you asleep, I went straight to my room.”
Smiling, I turn around and nod at him. “Thank you.” He nods back and eats another spoonful of cereal. I turn around and set the coffee under the industrial coffee machine, which I partially die for, and select a tab for French vanilla. I push off the cabinet, pull the sheet up a tad higher, and pull out two slices of bread to pop them in the toaster for me and Grey.
“Hey, David, where’s the—uh—sugar?” I tuck a hair behind my ear. I feel weird standing here in nothing but a sheet asking for sugar for my coffee.
He smiles but doesn’t comment on my obvious shyness and points past my legs. I smile nervously and bend and pull out the jar of sugar, making sure my hand is gripped around the top like steel. He laughs and glances at his phone, continuing to eat. I stand, kick the cabinet with my foot, and use a spoon to put three spoonfuls in the coffee and stir until it’s all dissolved.
“So,” I start, wanting to ease the slight tension and awkwardness lingering in the air. “How long have you guys been roommates?”
“Five years,” he answers. “I, uh…” He pauses, and I look up from the coffee I’m stirring. He’s biting his lip, as if contemplating whether he should continue or not. Rubbing his chin, he locks eyes with me. “I sorta took him under my wing after something bad happened to him.”
I stop stirring. “What happened?” I don’t know if I’m pushing a boundary, but a sense of worry coils around me, desperate to know what happened to the boy in the other room.
“His, um…his mother kicked him out pretty young. When he was sixteen,” he says, and my eyes widen. Grey told me about that, but not about David taking him in so young. Questions flood my mind. I want to ask them all, but then again, I don’t think he’s the one I should relay my curiosity onto…
The moment the bread pops up with a loud ping, I spot Grey shuffling into the kitchen. He’s rubbing his eyes, and I nearly flush at the sight of him shirtless, his dark hair disheveled. My smile trembles as his dark gaze lands on me. His lips quirk into a devilish smile.
“There’s my girl,” he grumbles, his voice deep and his Spanish accent much thicker than ever. It’s always been hidden under his words, but you could hear it just the faintest. But now…wow, I never knew the language could sound so sexy, clasped around his tongue. If only David wasn’t here…
“Uh, hi.” I shyly wave at him and glance at David, who looks amused as Grey walks into the kitchen. He glances at me, and I nod slightly. I won’t bring up what he just told me.
I don’t know how to act with Grey around other people, and he knows it, because he howls in thick laughter like the bastard he is and smacks my butt on his way to the fridge.
“Grey!” I flush and glare at him, mortified. Did he forget his friend is in the same room as us? “I made you toast,” I grumble, annoyed, and nibble on my own.
“That’s what’s up.” He nods at me with an over-bearing grin and leans on the counter next to me. “She and I are sort of a thing.” He shrugs casually and hip bumps me. I nearly choke on the bread.
“I see that,” David says and shoots his eyebrows up. He smiles and brings his glass of orange juice up to his lips. “Did this thing of yours begin last night, or before?”
“Don’t know,” Grey says and taps his chin. “Maybe while I was in between her legs?”
I spit my coffee back in the mug and blush bright red. “Jesus, Grey!” I slap his arm, but he laughs like I amused him. Like what he said didn’t just totally invade our intimate memory. He can’t just say things like that! It’s embarrassing and way too much information. You don’t see me going around screaming that he and I fooled around last night.
He just snorts and winks at me. “That was almost as lame as your attempts to push me off your sweet pus—”
“Grey! Stop it!” I slap my palms over my ears and glare at him. My face cannot be any hotter. He and David laugh and, embarrassed, I turn around and run to the bathroom. I’m mostly sure David laughed because of my reaction; but his friend, I know he laughed at my expense. I bet he gets off on embarrassing me.
“Asshole,” I mutter to myself, rolling my eyes as I shut the door behind me. He is horrible—yet still very much the captor of my heart and everything in between. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be a dick sometimes. Most of the time. Maybe he’ll ease up and be more tolerable—no, I can’t even finish that nor fool myself with that idea.
I let out a sigh as I reach inside the shower tub and twist on the tap. As the water spurts out and begins to warm up, I take the time to fold and place the bedsheet in the hamper by the front wall. By the time I walk over to the shower, it’s warm, sending a smile across my face. This will definitely make up for the fact that the guy I’ve fallen for is an asshole.
I step inside and draw the white curtain back. The water splashes, covering me from head to toe. It’s warm and feels amazing as it pounds down on me. I look around, find a fresh bar of soap on a little ledge in the tiled wall, and drag it across my chest. I scrub until my skin becomes noticeably pinker and do the same to my stomach. I momentarily let the water run down my chest, closing my eyes in satisfaction. I can’t help it; the water feels terrific. Much better than the mostly cold water at the dorms.
The curtain is abruptly pushed to the side. I let out a scream and instantly try to cover my body.
“Calm down,” Grey says, and I growl at him in annoyance and splash some water at him. He laughs. I turn my head to rub some soap out of my eyes. It stings for a bit, but I run my palm down the middle of my face and blink a few times under the water.
“Will you please shut the curtain? I’m getting cold,” I complain, shuddering to show my point.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get real warm soon,” he says vaguely. His hands touch my hips, and I quickly turn around and gasp, rushing back in shock. He is naked and in here. With me. Right now. What is he doing? I know we just did some pretty unholy things to each other and have seen each other naked, but this is way too much, way too fast. Showering with another person is really intimate. And serious.
He curls a hand around my waist and pulls me flush against his soaking chest. “Whoa, there. You almost busted your ass. And we can’t let that happen.” He glances down, and I have to force myself to not melt into the ground. Dimples pop in his cheeks, and water spirals down his nose and off his steep jawline. “You have the ass of a goddess. We have to do whatever we can to protect it, am I right?” I nearly gush when he winks at me and grips my ass.
“Don’t touch me.” I manage to whip my raging hormones into place and turn around.
“What the fuck did I do?” he asks incredulously.
“You humiliated me in front of David,” I tell him.
“I smacked your ass! It’s not like I dragged the sheet from your body and bragged about the marks that still litter your body,” he says in his defense. Something wicked gleams in his eyes.
Before I can stop it, he has me pinned against the cool wall and my head tipped back.
“You’re my girl, princesa. Meaning I wouldn’t intentionally embarrass you or expose you in that way. You’re mine to protect. Mine.” His lips contact with mine, and I almost melt. But then I think back to what he said and I push him away. He raises his brows, completely shocked.
So he does think us doing sexual things can just wipe away a problem between us? Nice to know.
“Am I? Or are we just ‘sort of’ a thing?” I put up air quotes and face the water again.
“I said sort of,” he said with laughter. “Why are you getting so worked up about ‘sort of’?”
Doesn’t he understand by now that I want so much more with him? Not just us being “sort of a thing” but the whole goddamn thing. I know I sound insane, but it just hurts that he doesn’t want to commit to me all the way. He’s always saying how much he wants me and only me, yet he can’t seem to claim me in a much larger role than some sort of hookup thing.
“Because it means I sort of mean nothing to you.” I mirror his sarcastic grin before turning away. The water glides down my back, and I grit my teeth when a wave of cold is all I feel. He blocked the water. I feel his hand touch my shoulder, ready to turn me around to make fun of me or what I said like he always does, but I brush it off.
He lets out an exhausted sound and walks around to face me. “You do mean something to me, Liv. A whole lot more than you think.”
“Then why is it so hard for you to make us exclusive? Or at least call me your—”
“Don’t you think it’s a little sixth grade to pressure a guy into calling a girl his girlfriend? There aren’t fucking twelve year olds chasing after you, are there?”
“No,” I say and narrow my eyes incredulously. “But there is one in front of me.” I spin on my heels and vigorously scrub the soap lingering on my chest. I want to get out of here as quickly as I can.
“I want to be more than some girl you play with from time to time,” I continue, and he tsks.
“How can you think of yourself like that?” he asks, his voice soft, almost drowned out by the pounding water. “How can you not see that you’ve come to mean so much to me? So much…more? I adore you, Liv. I am absolutely, completely, utterly in adoration of you. I can’t seem to think without you invading my thoughts. You mean everything to me.”
“Then what are we exactly, Grey?” I face him again.
He rolls his eyes with an endearing, dimpled smile. “A guy and a girl about to bone in a shower,” he says and waggles his eyebrows playfully as he takes steps toward me. But I hold a hand out that meets his broad, tatted chest.
“I’m being serious, Grey. I know we’re much more than friends. We did just go on a date last night. So, like, are we actually dating, exclusive, or—?”
He grabs my wrists. “We are two people who enjoy each other’s company. Why do you need more than that?”
I stare at him for what feels like an eternity. He isn’t getting this. Not that I’d expect him to, though. He’s used to random flings with random girls whenever he wanted for however long he wanted. But I am not one of those girls. I want something solid and acknowledgeable with him. I want to be able to call him mine and him vice versa, without having to go into deep, complicated details. Like: “Oh, we’re just really good friends, but we occasionally have sexual interactions with each other, which indefinitely terminates our idea of being friends. But we are friends.” I may not know much about this, but I’m pretty sure that is the textbook meaning of friends with benefits. And to be honest, I don’t want Grey to be my friend. I want him to be more.
“Say something, Liv,” he practically pleads, cupping my face.
“I’m not just going to be nothing with you, Grey. I have dignity, and being friends with benefits isn’t quite cutting it in the dignity department,” I tell him truthfully. “If you’re not ready to fully be with me, then please let me go…both literally and figuratively.” My throat clenches toward the end, and I have to look away to hold back the tears.
He rocks his jaw back and forth. “I’m not ready to be in an actual relationship, not after—”
“I refuse to be your plaything because you can’t get over your ex,” I cut him off and look at him, disbelieving what he really expects me to do. Be a girl he plays with while still maintaining his whorish reputation of not being locked down by that very girl. It’s sick.
“She hurt me pretty bad, Liv,” he says. I can’t tell if he’s tearing up or if it’s the water seeping through his long eyelashes, which is growing colder with each second of this dreadful conversation. “I was barely able to function after she and I split.”
“And you’re hurting me right now,” I say and sigh. I take a deep breath and look away from his intense gaze. He tips my head back and smiles at me.
“Why do you need us to have a title so bad?”
“I just want the satisfaction of knowing what we are if I’m going to be as open to you as I was last night,” I tell him. “But if you don’t think I’m enough for that…that’s fine. I’ll just leave.”
Why am I saying this? I don’t want to leave him. I want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him and wave this entire conversation away as if it never existed. But a big part of me knows that I have to confront him on this or I’ll never be able to live with myself.
I sidestep him and pull back the curtain, but he pulls me right back and closes his eyes to gather his thoughts. It physically kills me to see him this way. This…heartbroken. But I can’t take back the words that have already been said or are about to be said. I can’t protect him. I can only protect myself, and I hate it. I hate myself for hurting him this way. But it is necessary. I am worth putting him through this.
“Grey.” I turn from his touch, but he forces me to look into his swirling dark eyes. “There’s no point in this if we aren’t anything. I want something real.”
“And last night wasn’t real?” He looks up and furrows his brows.
“Yes, but—”
“Then give me a chance,” he pleads, cutting me off. I let him and stare into his eyes. “I—I’m still affected by something that happened years ago. And it’s silly and stupid. But I can’t help it. It—it fucked with me, and I can’t move on knowing that I can hurt you too. All I’m asking is for you to give me one chance. Just one. I may not be ready now, but trust me enough that I will only stay true to you and you only.” He presses his forehead against mine and closes his eyes as if to brace for impact. My impact, I guess.
I cup his face and let the tears drip down my face, mingling with the freezing water pelting our bodies. I spread my fingers over the stubble growing over his jawline and across his high cheekbones. I take the moment to assess every curve, the dimples embedded in his cheeks, to the small scar resting above his right eyebrow, in case this is the last time I see it.
I am stuck. My mind is practically begging for me to think rationally and weigh his probable faux plea for a chance and the high chance that he will hurt me. Again. It’s trying to tell me that he just subliminally told me that he’s still hung up on the past and most likely won’t be able to really commit to any kind of relationship. I usually listen to my mind because it has been right almost all of the time in every situation I’ve ever encountered.
But how can I when I can lose this beautiful man in front of me?
Screw my mind, I want you.
“Okay.” My voice is barely audible.
His body perks up, and his eyes fly open, with the cutest and brightest smile I honestly wish I could take a picture of. Too bad my phone is in the other room and isn’t waterproof. He grips my waist and gently holds my chin in his hand.
“Seriously?” He sounds really shocked.
“Yes,” I say and frown. “What did you think I’d say?”
He freezes but keeps his smile and nervously laughs. “I thought you would have said no and left me heartbroken.”
Trust me, I was considering it…
“Well, be grateful I said okay.”
“There’s my mean girl,” he whispers with a wide smile before leaning down to press his lips against mine, but I put a finger against mine so he kisses my knuckle.
“Can we get out of here, though? My body is a sack of raisins now, and it is freaking freezing.” I cover my chest and jitter side to side. He laughs and nods and reaches over to turn off the faucet.
While he’s facing away from me, I slap his ass, like he did to me ten minutes ago. Payback’s a bitch, I say cockily in my head.
He gasps and whips around to glare at me jokingly. “Did you just—?” I slowly nod, and he growls and nods to the curtain. “You better run before I catch you. I’ll even give you a head start. Five seconds. One…two…three…”
Squealing, I hop out of the shower, grab a towel, and quickly wrap it around me in case David’s still here and run to Grey’s room. He catches me the moment I do and hoists me into the air. The towel falls, and he and I perk up our eyebrows. As if we are connected, I wink at him and gasp, then squeal in shock when he pushes me back on the bed. Our morning is spent with my lively giggles and annoying-ass jokes, and my heart overruling my mind in joy for once.
I don’t follow my heart over my mind often, so I’m praying this works out and doesn’t end with me getting my heart crushed. But as I gaze down at this hauntingly exquisite man making even more marks on my chest and he looks back up at me with the most exuberant smile on this earth, I have a pretty good feeling that won’t be the case. And if it is…then I won’t mind getting ruined by this alluring vandal.