Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“I gotta talk to you about some shit,” he said, head cocked to the side as he looked at me with my massive dark sunglasses obscuring half my face. “I brought food, if you’ll let me up.”
It was a terrible idea.
Yet I didn’t even hesitate.
“Okay,” I said, finding my key, and unlocking the door, then leading him into the landing of the staircase that went up toward my apartment.
I was suddenly embarrassed about the pile of boxes scattered around that I hadn’t gotten around to breaking down to put out for recycling.
“The fourth step up is a little weak in the center,” I told him, starting up. “Walk to the side,” I added, demonstrating the instructions as I made it to the top, then unlocked the door to my apartment.
It was a nice space, likely a little big for just me. But I got it on a song, rent-wise, and I liked the idea of being able to have a roommate if I ever wanted one.
The door opened up into a large living room with dark wood floors, a rosy pink crushed velvet sectional, coffee table, and a TV on the wall across from the seating area.
“I guess I’m supposed to give you a tour,” I said, waving out at the living room. “Living room. The loft up there is my bedroom,” I added, waving toward the railing up over the living room. “Then through here,” I told him, going toward the hallway, “is the kitchen.” It was a horseshoe shape with ancient cabinetry and dated appliances. But I didn’t cook much anyway. “And this,” I said, going across the hall, “is technically the bedroom. But I use it as storage and my closet.”
I wasn’t about to admit to him that I chose to sleep in the loft because it felt safer, even though I had to cram my bed against the wall, so I didn’t go anywhere near the railing that looked over the living room.
“And then, finally, the bathroom. And the little washer and dryer space,” I told him. “That’s the grand tour.”
“You sleep in the loft?” he asked, frowning as he looked at the staircase leading up.
“Far, far away from the railing,” I told him, putting my purse and keys down. “What kind of food did you bring?”
“I got wraps,” he said, bringing the bag into the kitchen to set it on the counter. “Hopefully, you still like chicken Caesar wraps.”
“I do,” I told him, pretending my heart didn’t feel all gooey that he remembered that kind of thing.
I once dated a guy for an entire year who never remembered how I took my coffee.
“The plates are right above your head. I’m just going to get out of my work clothes,” I told him, disappearing into the closet room to finally unbutton the slacks that had been pressing just a bit too tight all day, breathing a sigh of relief as the pressure let off.
I glanced around at my things, suddenly second-guessing what to put on. Nights at home usually meant horribly oversized sweats, fuzzy socks, comfy stuff.
But I wasn’t spending my night alone.
I was spending it with Brooks.
And as much as I wanted to claim I didn’t want things to get physical again between us, I knew that if he made a move, I’d be a puddle of need at his feet.
So, you know, I kind of wanted to look tempting. Without looking like I was trying to look tempting.
I settled on a pair of gray leggings that did wonders for my ass and a simple white tee that was fitted, but not tight.
I went ahead and put on cuter panties… and entirely left off my bra.
What can I say?
Maybe I wanted him to suffer a little for the whole dismissing me thing.
“Water?” Brooks asked from where he was peering in the fridge.
“Yes, please,” I said, watching him as he moved around my kitchen like he belonged there.
He grabbed two bottles of water before closing the door and turning to look at me.
I was suddenly really thankful for the air conditioning cranking, because Brooks’s gaze slipped right to my chest where my nipples were pressing against the thin white material of my t-shirt. But just for a beat before he caught himself.
“You have no table,” he said, waving toward the plates.
“Oh, I don’t usually have any company, aside from Sage. We eat on the couch,” I told him, taking the waters from him, so he could grab the plates.
I moved ahead of him.
And if I put a bit more sashay in my step to draw his attention to my ass, so what?
Brooks put the plates down as I picked a show at random to have the silence between us feel less awkward.
“Thanks for dinner,” I said, tucking my legs to the side, and placing my plate on my lap.