And yet he’d still pulled her close. He’d still buried himself inside her in a goddamned wave of passion. He’d still done everything wrong, and damned if it hadn’t felt so very right.
“You’re an idiot. You know that, right?” His reflection just stared back at him, unwilling to share its secrets or share the blame.
He turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face. Then he grabbed the towel, dried off, and opened the bathroom door. She was sitting on the edge of the bed in the Minnie Mouse shirt looking at him. He felt the weight of accusation in her eyes, but when he looked close he didn’t actually see it. It was all in his imagination.
“It’s okay, you know.”
He smiled, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “You’re reading my mind.”
Her smile spread into a delighted grin, and the trill of her laughter eased his guilt. “It’s what I’m good at, remember? We always knew what each other was thinking.”
He nodded and returned to sit beside her on the bed. She scooted over so that her back was against the headboard, and he shifted so that he was facing her.
“Are we okay?”
Once again, he wanted to laugh. “Under the circumstances, I think I should be the one asking you that.”
“We’re fine,” she said, reaching for his hand. “We’re really, really fine.”
“Listen,” he began, then cleared his throat. “I, um, I just want to be clear. The truth is I would happily have a repeat performance of last night, but I know you don’t want that.”
He paused to watch her face, but her expression was entirely unreadable. The only clue as to what was going on inside her head was the way her eyes widened just slightly. But he didn’t know how to read that, so he just pressed on. “I won’t ask. I won’t push. I don’t want...”
“What?”
“I don’t want to toss away what I think we got back by letting sex get in the way. I know this was a one-off. I know it, and I’m cool with that. I suppose I should probably regret sleeping with you at all,” he said. “But I don’t. We found each other again, and we both had a good time, but it was a one-off. No friends with benefits, right? But I still really want to keep the friend part, and I want to make sure that we’re on the same page.”
Her face lit with her smile. “You really are the last gentleman standing,” she said as she took his hand. “And I really do have great taste in friends.”
He studied her face. “So we’re good? You don’t feel weird about the whole thing?”
“I don’t. I really don’t. And I’m so grateful for everything that you’re saying. Last night, it felt... It felt like a great reunion, and it felt like taking care of old business. And all of that is good. Because it also felt like a start.”
“And you don’t want to keep on…?”
“I—” She shook her head, then cleared her throat. “I told you. I’m not interested in a friends-with-benefits thing. Flings aren’t my style.” She leaned forward and took his hands. “But if I was that girl, I would totally be into it with you, at least so long as it didn’t screw up our friendship. Because I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you back.”
“Friends forever,” he said, then extended his elbow in the bizarre version of a handshake they’d come up with in fifth grade. A laugh bubbled out of her, and she bumped her elbow with his.
“Forever,” she said.
He nodded, and though he was glad about the outcome, he couldn’t deny the little voice in his head that told him he was closing the door on something extraordinarily special.
Chapter Eight
“So how’d it go?”
Renly’s been gone for about an hour; he left after giving me strict orders to lock the place up and not open the door to strangers. I’ve been buzzing through my apartment since, burning off energy by cleaning. He’s gone to get his bike and run some errands, but he’s coming back in a few hours to escort me to the office and check it out before my afternoon meeting with Darrin. I’m not worried—not really—but I’d feel pretty stupid if some scary stalker was hiding under my desk.
Marge is coming in, too, which is a plus. She does all the client billing, and often works on Saturdays. So it’ll be good to have someone else in the office, if only because it looks more professional than just me and Darrin huddled behind a computer.
Right now, though, Lilah’s here, and her question is forcing me to take a break and process everything that’s going through my head.
“It went great,” I say, which is the absolute literal truth. “We caught up. It was awesome hanging out with him again. We still really, really click.” As I say the last, I feel my cheeks start to burn and I quickly look down.
Lilah, of course, misses nothing. “Oh my God,” she says. “You slept with him.”
“No, I—”
“Do not even,” she says. “Now tell me everything.”
I sigh, silently conceding the truth. “I have no idea how it happened,” I admit. “We were catching up, and we’d been drinking whiskey, and we were both really chill, and then ...” I trail off with a shrug, and Lilah squeals and starts to clap.
“I’m so happy for you. This is like the best thing ever. Dating your best friend.”
I shake my head. “No. It was a one-time thing.”
She tilts her head to the side. “You? A one-time thing? This does not sound like the friend I have known and loved since sophomore year.”
I shrug. “I wanted him,” I admit. “And we talked about it. It was all very mature and open. I told him that I don’t do friends with benefits, and he told me that he wasn’t interested in getting serious, and—”
“And yet you ended up in bed together?”
Once again, I shrug. “He’s my old crush. What can I say? I broke my rule. But just for the one time. We talked about it afterwards. It’s very mature,” I repeat. “We’re still friends. We’re just friends. We’re only going to be friends.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
I force myself not to shrug this time. Instead I lift my chin, straighten my back, and very firmly say, “Yes. I respect that he doesn’t want a relationship. He’s not interested in settling down.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s dated like every A-list actress in the city.”
“He told me,” I say. “All part of the same conversation. And like I said, we’re not sleeping together again. We’re just friends. He can sleep with whoever he wants to, celebrity or not.”
At the same time, I have to admit to myself that I’m glad he’s not working in Hollywood anymore. He seemed so sad when he told me that he wasn’t interested in a relationship because they just don’t work. He had that I’m being practical tone, but there was something else beneath it.
“Where did you go?” Lilah asks.
I shake my head. “Just thinking. He told me that he’s not a relationship guy, and I’m thinking it has to do with his parents.”
“Yeah?” She heads to my fridge and pulls out a watermelon-flavored sparkling water. She holds it up. “Want one?”