Her eyes widened, and then she flushed. “Yeah. Okay. Disappearing.”
I grasped her hand before she could push away. “Hey.”
She drew back and headed toward the passenger side. “Let’s just go.”
But I followed her. “Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Jen…”
She looked up at me, and I saw for the first time that she was hurt. Hurt by what I’d said?
“You didn’t disappear to me,” I said softly.
She took a step backward in surprise. “What?”
“You were fading into the background but not to me. You needed a breath of fresh air. That’s why I suggested it. Not because I think that you’re walking in your brother’s shadow.”
Her eyes were round and lined with gold from the light of the moon. “It’s all that obvious, isn’t it?”
“I’ve had a lot of experience observing people.”
“I was afraid of this,” she whispered and looked away.
“Of what?”
“That you’d see me differently once you met everyone.”
I barked a laugh. “Differently? If anything, I see everyone else differently. How can they not appreciate what’s right in front of them?”
My words held a double meaning. How had I not appreciated her there all this time? Our constant friendship. Her easy demeanor. The friendship that had blossomed so effortlessly over the last few years. That now, we were standing here, and all I wanted to do was kiss her.
She bit her bottom lip and looked down. “We should…we should just go back.”
Right. This was Jennifer. She was all of those things to me, but we weren’t in a place where I could kiss her. I didn’t want her to push me away.
I straightened, swallowing down the urge to kiss her, and headed to the other side of the car. We drove back to the house in silence. Just the gentle purr of Milli guiding the way. The house was dark when we arrived, and Jen flipped on the lights as she headed back for the bedroom. By the time she got there, she was yawning for real.
“Maybe I’m more tired than I thought,” she said.
“Traveling is draining.”
So was pretending to be something that she wasn’t and hiding her entire personality because of her parents’ expectations and suffocating under her brother’s supposed brilliance. Things I couldn’t say. She’d been uncomfortable enough when I mentioned that she was invisible. Obviously, she’d been dealing with all of this a lot longer than the handful of hours I’d been present. This wasn’t new to her. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
Jennifer grabbed her clothes and headed into the bathroom. She returned, wearing adorable glasses, a short-sleeved, mint-green, silk, button-up sleeping outfit. Her hair was piled into a messy bun on the top of her head with the shortest strands loose at the nape of her neck.
I snatched up my own sleeping clothes before my dick could respond to seeing her long, curvy legs and the shape of her in silk…with no bra.
Normally, I slept naked. Or at the most, in a pair of boxers. But I couldn’t do that here, of course. So, I’d packed some sleep shorts and an old traveling soccer team shirt. Jennifer was already in bed when I got back. The lamp on the side table light was on, and she had a historical romance set next to it.
“Any idea where I should look for the extra pillows and blankets?” I asked her.
She cleared her throat, as if she were about to prepare a speech. “I actually thought…there is room.” She gestured next to her. “I mean, I don’t move around a lot in my sleep. I’ll stay on my side.”
“You want me to sleep with you?”
Her cheeks turned a hint of pink that made me want to keep saying things to get that expression. She was usually so embarrassed when I flirted with her, but she never took me seriously. But now, we were about to sleep in the same bed. There was no way to not take this seriously.
“Sleep…next to me,” she chirped.
“All right.”
I closed the door behind me, flicking the lights off, and carefully slid into the bed next to her. The only illumination in the room came from her side table. The bed was not big. My feet hung a little over the edge, but it was infinitely better than sleeping on the floor. The worst part was how close together we were. Or maybe it was the best part? The most torturous part?
Her body wasn’t touching mine, but she was close enough that I could feel the heat coming off of her.
My brain short-circuited when she shifted and her hip touched mine. She jumped backward, as if she, too, had been hit by an electrical surge at the contact.
“I’m going to get some sleep,” she said hastily, turning off the side lamp and casting us into darkness.
“Night,” I whispered.
She turned on her side to face away from me. While I sat there and envisioned her naked and underneath me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and told my dick to get itself together.
Fuck. I was already hard.
“I actually think I’m going to take a shower,” I told her.
“Okay,” she murmured softly.
There was something I needed to take care of if I was going to sleep next to her all night.
11
Jennifer
Graduation was bright and early the next morning.
I’d barely slept. My brain wouldn’t shut off, no matter how hard I’d tried. Not when I could hear the shower running from the bathroom and picture the water running over his naked body. Not when he lay inches away from me. Not when we were in bed together.
I’d eventually gotten up at three in the morning to pop a sleeping pill that I reserved for emergencies. But I’d taken it too late and woken up groggy. My brain was cocooned in a cloud, and every movement felt like I was dragging.
“We could get you a coffee,” Julian offered with a smile.
He hadn’t seemed to have any trouble sleeping and was his same chipper self the next morning.
I made a face. “I don’t like it.”
“But you need it. There’s a difference.”
“It tastes like bitter bean juice.”
He gasped. “You offend me.”
“Feel free to enjoy it. I will stick to my water.”
“Tea? Coke? Chocolate? Something with a stimulant in it.”
I bit my lip and nodded. “Maybe a Coke. But there’s a hierarchy of Coke.”
He arched an eyebrow. “A hierarchy?”
“Definitely. Not all Coke is created equal.”
He snorted. “Pray tell.” He leaned his elbow on the island as he waited for his pot of coffee to brew.
“Mexican Coke in a glass bottle is the absolute number one.”
“Fair.”
“Then Freestyle machine Coke. You know, the one that has the touch screens.”
He smirked. “Yes.”
“Fountain Coke. Preferably McDonald’s, followed by Coke in a can. Then comes the problem children.”
He couldn’t keep the full-blown smile from reaching all the way to his eyes. “Problem children?”
“Two liter, then twenty-ounce bottle, and then the dreaded bar Coke.” I shuddered. “Bar Coke is the lowest of lows. Only to be had when all else fails.”