I blink several times; in fact, that’s the only thing I can seem to do at the moment. He stares at me for what feels like minutes instead of seconds, keeping himself perfectly still while I feel the hand submerged in my hair begin to tremble.

“I don’t want any more distractions,” he states, standing up a bit taller.

Whoa.

I try to swallow, to produce any amount of saliva, but my tongue suddenly feels as if it has doubled in size. His forehead creases, just below his hairline, like he’s studying my reaction to what he’s just said. I’m not sure what he’s seeing, but I feel like I probably look completely mental right now. I know I’m not moving, I’m barely breathing, and I’m naked. Very naked. I hear movement in the room, covers shuffling, some low, muffled noises, but I can’t peel my eyes off Luke. Not while he’s looking at me like that.

“Move.”

He shifts over, allowing Jolene to push past him and continue in my direction. She knocks purposely into my shoulder, meaningful scowl in place, before exiting the room with an exaggerated grunt.

I flatten my back against the door as Luke eliminates the space between us with two long strides. “I’ll be right back. I just wanna make sure she leaves.”

I drop my head into a partial nod. “’Kay.”

‘Kay? I can’t even manage to put an “o” in front of that? Has the ability to pronounce a simple vowel escaped me?

He places a gentle hand on my arm, just above my elbow, squeezes, and slips out of the bedroom, leaving my hopeless vocabulary and me alone.

I shake my hands at my sides, blowing out a quick breath.

Christ. Get your shit together, Tessa. It’s not like he dropped the L bomb. He simply looked at you with unashamed honesty, and confessed… what? That he’s doesn’t want to get his mind off me anymore? That he’s done hooking up with other women? Or did he just mean he doesn’t want to have sex with Jolene again?

I let my head fall into my hands with a heavy sigh.

Shit. You’re overthinking things. Knock it off.

I walk over to Luke’s dresser, grabbing a pair of boxer briefs and one of his worn T-shirts to slip into. As I’m popping my head through the top, I spot a glass container sitting next to his bedside lamp, full of guitar picks. I sit on the bed with it, holding it up and staring at the contents. I don’t remember ever seeing this in Luke’s room before, but most of the picks in the jar look used. The logos are faded, the designs barely visible, and some of them are even chipped along the edges. As I’m fishing through the jar, letting the picks clink against the glass, something else catches my attention.

A guitar case, black and covered in stickers, is leaning against the wall in the corner. I place the jar down and move across the room, crouching down to examine it. The stickers on the case are peeling off, and I run my finger over the edge of one, pressing it down to try and reattach it. My curiosity becomes too much to ignore, and I lay the case down and pop the snaps, flipping the lid back.

“What are you doing?”

The unexpected sound of Luke’s voice sends me falling back onto my ass, striking my upper back against corner of the dresser. “Ow. Son of a bitch.”

“You okay?”

I reach back and rub my shoulder, looking up at him just as he takes a bite of something he’s holding between his thumb and finger. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I push to my feet and glance between the open case and him. “Do you play the guitar?”

He shakes his head, takes a few steps toward me, and kicks the case closed. “No. Here, they dropped your car off.”

I take the keys and set them on his nightstand next to the jar of picks. “Why do you have all these, then? Do you like collecting them or something?” I turn my head when he doesn’t answer, just in time to see him pop the last bite of a cookie-dough square into his mouth. His attention is on my outfit, with raised brows and a brazen smile twisting across his lips.

“Luke.”

“Babe,” he replies after swallowing his bite.

I roll my eyes at the title he always used to label me with. In private. “Can you look at me please?”

“I am looking at you. Are you wearing my boxers?” He lifts the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing, exposing my left hip. “That’s fucking hot.”

I’m quickly tossed onto the bed, and the moment my head crashes down on the pillow, a cloud of Whores-R-Us perfume surrounds me. I cover my nose and mouth with my hands, rolling to the edge, and wiggling off. “Ugh, gross. Your sheets smell horrible.”

Luke bends down and grabs a handful of his sheet, bringing it up to his nose. He gathers them up, mumbling something under his breath, and takes them out of the room, returning moments later with a clean set. “Sorry,” he says, meeting my eyes.

I shrug, watching as he makes the bed, leaving the covers turned down before looking over at me for approval. I scramble back onto the bed and lean against the headboard as he reaches for the button on his jeans.

“So, why do you have a guitar here and all those picks if you don’t play?”

His eyes go to the floor where the case remains closed but unlatched. “I just do.”

“Why?”

“Tessa…” His chest heaves with a deep breath as his eyes reach mine. “I just fucking have them, okay? People accumulate all kinds of shit that doesn’t mean anything to them. It’s just here.”

I stare, unconvinced, arms crossing over my chest. “Nobody collects things, like guitar picks, if they don’t mean something. Why would you have more than one if you didn’t want to?”