Linc

 

The moment dinner was over, I was out of my seat, making excuses to get the hell out of there. The seven glasses of whiskey I’d downed barely took the edge off, and Jack was an even bigger ass than I had originally thought. I couldn’t understand what she saw in him. He was nothing but rude to her all night. What kind of guy dictated what his girlfriend could eat and wear? I’d bet my car the dress Indie had worn to dinner was because of him. As gorgeous as she looked wearing it, I knew she’d be so much more comfortable in jeans.

I paced my room forty-three times waiting for her to return to her room. I had a plan.

Where was she?

I listened at the door for thirty seconds, hoping she’d have snuck in without me realising. But it was silent.

Where was she?

I checked my watch, tapped the screen to make sure it was working, and brought it to my ear to hear the tick of the second hand.

Where was she?

She had better not be with Jack somewhere alone. I hung my clothes in the closet then colour coordinated them because I had nothing better to do with my time.

Where was she?

I poured a drink and stood on the balcony watching the waves crash against the shore. The sun had long set, the stars were out, and the breeze was warm.

Where was she?

I listened at the door again for any sound of her being back. I heard the television.

She was back.

I made one phone call then rushed into the bathroom for a shower. As soon as I was out, I heard a knock on the door. Pulling my pants on and rubbing the towel through my hair, I opened the door and greeted the guy with the room service cart.

“Thanks, man,” I said and tipped him once he brought the food inside. After he left, I pushed the cart through the door between our rooms without even knocking.

“Linc!” she gasped, pausing the television and sitting up on the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you this. Figured you’d be hungry after not eating much at dinner.” I tapped the cart.

“Food?” She bit her lip, her mouth pulling into a grin as she knelt forward and slapped both hands on the bed a few times.

I dragged the cart to the foot of the bed and climbed on beside her. “We have pizza, steak, chips, and garlic bread.” I lifted the silver covers off all the trays.

“No salad?” Indie quirked an eyebrow.

I may have growled, my lip curling in disgust. “No fuckin’ salad.”

“Good.” She reached for the pizza first. “You don’t win friends with salad.”

I burst out laughing, falling back onto the bed. She was quoting The Simpsons to me. I could have a kissed her right in that moment, but common sense prevailed.

She smiled and shoved half the pizza slice in her mouth. The girl could eat. In fact, she could eat more that Nate or I, and the idea that Jack-ass was controlling everything pissed me off. Hence the mini buffet now.

“What are you watching?” I asked, indicating the paused television.

“Nothing, just flicking. Wanna watch a movie with me?”

“Sure.” I tried to act like it was no big deal, but it was. Watching movies with Indie—and Nate—in the basement of their house was my favourite thing to do growing up, scary movies, in particular. “Any good horror movies on?”

“You know I don’t like horror movies.” She groaned through a mouthful of pizza and threw the remote control at me.

“You love them,” I argued, knowing how much she hated watching them. She always closed her eyes and blocked her ears through most of the slasher flicks we watched, usually burying her face in my chest to shield herself from seeing something that would give her nightmares. I hated the thought of her being scared, but I lived for those nights where she’d eventually fall asleep in my arms, hiding from the monsters on the screen.

“Whatever. Just know I’m blaming you when I get nightmares.” She stabbed her fork at me. “And I’ll wake you up in the middle of the night to check under my bed for monsters.”

I grinned at her and pushed the room service cart aside. I was counting on it.

I shuffled back on the bed until I was leaning against the headboard.

“What are you doing?” Indie looked over her shoulder at me.

“Getting comfortable. Obviously.”

She dropped her fork onto her plate and stood to place it on the cart out of the way before climbing back on the bed beside me. “Shouldn’t you put a shirt on or something?”

“Why?” I hadn’t even thought about throwing on a shirt after the food arrived. I was in too much of a hurry to see Indie and make sure she was okay after the way Jack-ass treated her. “It’s hot, and I never wear one when I go to bed.”

“We are not going to bed. We are watching a movie,” she clarified, her eyes dropping to my bare chest and stomach before flicking straight back up to my face.

“On your bed, so I’m wearing something comfortable. Shouldn’t you get changed out of your dress?”

“Oh, uh…yeah, I guess.” She stood and lifted her suitcase onto the bed and began rifling through it, a frown forming on her face the longer she searched. “You know what? I’m okay in the dress.”

“Indie, get changed. You’re going to fall asleep like you always do when we watch movies, and you cannot sleep in that.”

“Fine,” she huffed, grabbing something out of her case and balling it into a tight wad of material before storming into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, she returned nervously and took my breath away. Damn it. Why did she have to get changed? Her legs looked killer. Smooth and creamy and lean, stretching up to her low-slung black shorts that barely covered the curve of her ass. I gulped, my eyes dragging up her body unhurriedly, taking in every detail from the sharpness of her hipbones, and the thin strip of skin that was exposed below her bright pink cropped pyjama top.

“Kiss my…?” I asked, referring to the black glitter writing that stretched across her chest.

With a playful smile, she turned and gave her hips a little shake. A laugh rumbled from my chest. Where the hell did she get these pyjamas? Plastered right across her butt were giant, glittery, pink lips.

“Is that an invitation?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off her shorts, until she turned around with a scowl on her face. I would happily kiss her there…everywhere.

“Not funny, Linc. It’s not my fault. I packed completely different clothes.”

“What do you mean?” That got my attention at once. I reached out and pulled her onto the bed beside me. “These aren’t yours?”

She shook her head. What the fu…?

“Well, I mean, I guess they are. They’re just not what I bought myself.” She sighed and took a deep breath. “Jack repacked my bag, replacing all my clothes with…this.” She ran her hands down her body, making me wish she’d either put a robe on or take everything off.

I stared at her, trying to choose my words carefully. I knew if I said the wrong thing, she’d get pissed off and likely kick me out of her room. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. It’d been so long since I saw her last that I wanted to spend every free minute I could with her, without that idiot around. I was quietly grateful she came back up here alone.

“Look, it doesn’t matter. One week, and I’ll be home with my own clothes, and things will be back to normal. I can tough it out for a few days,” she said when I failed to respond. “Let’s just watch this movie.”

“Gimme a sec.” I jumped off the bed and ran into my room. I pulled out a pair of basketball shorts because they were the only things I had with a drawstring that could be pulled tight enough to fit her waist and took them back to the room. “These might be more you.”

She smiled that smile, the one that stopped my heart every time, and ran to the bathroom, only to come back in my shorts. As good as she looked in the tiny black shorts, I liked her better in mine.

“Thanks. So what are we watching?”

“You’ll see.”

I pressed play and settled back against the headboard. We were watching Saw. Indie sat forward with her legs crossed, watching intently, showing no fear, and I wondered if she wasn’t scared of these movies anymore. But then her hands crept up to her mouth, and she began chewing on her fingernails. After she jumped the first time at a scene that wasn’t even scary, she was back against the headboard with her hands covering her eyes, peeking through her fingers.

“I hate you,” she breathed, turning her head to my shoulder when the creepy puppet-doll thing filled the screen.

“No, you don’t.” I smiled and lifted my arm to wrap around her shoulder, knowing there was no way she was moving from the position until the movie finished or she fell asleep.

She fell asleep.