“Not really,” I admitted. “I think I’m a little scared.”
Scared and turned on, which was unfortunate.
“You should be. I can do the whole alphabet.”
Damn. I kinda wanted to see that.
“So, we watching that movie or not?” she asked.
“Um, watching it,” I said, flipping through the search options to find Star Wars. I hit play, leaning back against the couch as words started scrolling across the screen. Mel was less than six inches from me. Close enough to reach over, shove my hands into her hair, and kiss the hell out of her.
Instead I just sat there, horny as hell, watching Luke Skywalker whine about power converters.
“Hey, you okay?” she asked.
“Fuckin’ great.”
MELANIE
The sunlight hurt my eyes.
I blinked, trying to remember where I was, because I definitely wasn’t home in my room. The bed felt weird, and the water-stained ceiling above me wasn’t familiar, either. I turned my head to find Painter sleeping next to me, his face just inches from mine, and it all came back.
He looked softer asleep.
I mean, he was still the same big bad biker, but there was nothing mocking or calculating on his face right now. Not only that, he looked young. He was older than me, but not by much, and right now he could almost pass for a high school student.
My eyes trailed down, and sadly I discovered he was still fully clothed. So was I, apparently, because my underwire was poking me something fierce. Also needed to pee in a major way. This was a problem, because if I moved, Painter would wake up and turn back into a scary biker on me.
I wanted to reach out and trace his face with my finger, feel the little bristles of his morning beard. But we were friend-zoned, and despite what we’d pretended last night, in the friend zone people don’t touch like that.
His eyes opened.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
We stared at each other for a few seconds, staying quiet.
“You sleep okay?” he asked. “I carried you in here, figured you’d be uncomfortable on the couch. Then I crashed here, too, because that couch is shit. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, it’s all good,” I said, willing myself to make the best of things. So maybe we weren’t meant to be a couple. Didn’t mean I’d stopped liking him as a person—he was still the same guy who’d sent me cartoons and jokes and pep talks when I was frustrated with one of my classes. “As a friend, I’d hate for you to have shitty sleep.”
He grinned. “Appreciate the thought. You wanna go get some breakfast?”
I looked around, wondering what time it was. Where was my phone? Something chimed, and he reached over, picking his up off the floor—the bed was really just a mattress, I realized.
“I gotta go,” he told me, frowning. “Something’s come up.”
“No worries,” I said, thinking wistfully of breakfast. I’d decided one benefit of the friend zone was you could pig out all you want, and I was hungry for biscuits and gravy. All I had at home was cereal.
“I’ll give you a ride home,” he said, rolling off the bed.
“I can just walk,” I told him. “It’s only a few blocks.”
He shook his head, offering me a hand up.
“I’ll give you a ride,” he insisted. “Just give me ten for a quick shower.”
“All right—you want coffee or something? I can fix it while you’re in there.”
“No, I gotta get going.”
• • •
It was a long ten minutes, mostly because I’d forgotten to pee before he started his shower. The apartment looked even smaller in the daylight, and the sound of running water filling it didn’t help. One silver lining? Hard to feel horny while you’re doing the pee-pee dance, even though I knew he was naked right on the other side of a narrow, flimsy door. Took all my energy not to have an accident in my pants.
I found my phone out next to the couch, so I grabbed it, looking for a distraction. It was nearly ten in the morning. Wow. Jess had texted me about an hour earlier.
JESS: You alive? Looks like someone didnt come home last night. Painter? We should talk.
I sighed, then messaged her back.
ME: I stayed at his place but not like you think. We’re just friends. How was Taz?
JESS: Useful. He fucked me hard and then fixed the sink because it was dripping and wouldn’t stop. Now he’s cooking me breakfast
ME: Wow. Sounds like a keeper.
JESS: Im not into keepers. I’ve decided from now on I’ll just stay mentally celibate. That way I can get laid but still hold firm to my ideals. You coming home soon?
ME: Yup, just a few
JESS: Ha! You said your coming. I meant cumming. Shit, that would be funnier without autocorrect ducking it up.
“What are you smiling about?” Painter asked, stepping out of the bathroom. I would’ve answered him, but I’d temporarily lost the ability to breathe or form words. This was because he’d pulled on a pair of jeans, but no shirt. Throw in the fact that his hair was wet and tousled, and little drips of water were running down his pecs and across his abs?
Unfair. Deeply unfair.
I managed to collect myself, then scowled at him.
“Put on some clothes,” I said, pointing toward his bedroom. “If we’re going to be friends, you need to keep it decent.”
He raised a brow.
“Guys leave off their shirts all the time,” he pointed out reasonably. I crossed my arms, staring him down.
“The friend zone only works if you stay in it,” I declared. “You’re out of bounds. Put on a shirt, okay?”