7. Tobias
Chapter 7
Tobias
M aybe Amelia had a point.
Maybe I am bored of screwing around.
What happened between Roxy and me tonight left me feeling hollow in places that used to burn with want.
It wasn't even about her. It was all me, and somewhere in the middle of it, I found myself wondering if I could just leave without even finishing. There was no excitement, no fire—just the overwhelming realization that I was treating sex like it was another chore on some twisted sexual to-do list, and Roxy didn't deserve that.
I know that makes me an asshole. I'd never actually leave halfway through, but the thought was there, and it wasn't going anywhere. I think she felt it too. The way her touch hesitated and the mood shifted—it was awkward, and we both knew it was coming from me.
When I got to her place, she practically dragged me inside. She had her hands on me in seconds, and I was stripped down before I even had a chance to think. Her touch, though familiar, lacked the spark it once did.
I'm starting to feel like I've forgotten what a spark even feels like.
I'm beginning to think I've been around my friends too much. What Zane and Tessa and Harry and Jen share—that deep connection and "nobody else in the world exists but you" kind of love—isn't something I necessarily want, but I think I'm tired of the emptiness that comes with meaningless sex.
All their loved-up bullshit has somehow seeped into my brain and rewired it—probably fucking broken it.
And then there's Amelia, getting in my head with her questions right before I left the apartment.
Roxy knew there was something off with me. It wasn't as though either of us could ignore it despite my attempts to push through. Even as I tried to salvage what used to come so naturally, the disconnect screamed at me in every touch, every breath, and every stretch of silence between us.
Neither of us spoke after, allowing what had happened to settle between us like a wall. A few minutes passed, but it could've been hours for all I knew. I felt like I needed to fix it somehow, to make sure Roxy knew it wasn't her and that she had nothing to do with why I felt like I was a million miles away. I turned to her and asked her if she was okay, but the look she gave me felt like a blow to the face. She didn't even bother to answer. She just sat up, pulled on her robe, and told me to close the door on my way out.
Pretty sure my dick is defective at this point.Or maybe it's my head that's broken considering I found myself more excited by watching Mills dance than by having sex.
I couldn't take my eyes off the graceful creature who moved so elegantly, especially after I saw her in her hungover state this morning.
The way her body bent… Jesus.
There's always been an edge to Amelia, a take-no-shit hardness, so watching her move so softly earlier tonight was like seeing a hidden side to her that I didn't even really know existed.
"Mills?" I call out, rapping my knuckles against her bedroom door.
Silence.
I wait for a beat, but there's nothing. Pushing the door open, I step inside, finding her still fast asleep and dead to the world.
The sunlight pours into the room, streaming through the half-drawn black curtains, yet she remains completely undisturbed by the brightness. She's lying on her side with one leg hitched up, causing her shorts to ride high on her thighs and stretch over her ass in a way that makes my throat tighten. For a second—maybe more than a second—I find myself just staring, unashamedly taking in the sight of her.
I shake my head, snapping myself out of it, and step closer to her, trying and completely failing to keep my eyes from wandering back to places they have no business being.
When I reach the edge of the bed, my hand hovers above her arm, ready to nudge her awake, but my foot accidentally bumps into a box on the floor, and a low, unmistakable buzzing sound follows. It takes a second—just one—to register what I just hit. And when it does, the realization hits me like a kick to the balls.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
There's no way in hell I'm touching her stash of sex toys. She'd kill me. Like, literally end me in the most brutal way imaginable.
Fuck it, I'm going to have to, or I'll end up waking her up and embarrassing the shit out of both of us.
As I stand there, frozen like an idiot, she starts to stir, and a soft little sound escapes her lips as she stretches. My eyes drift down to where her chest rises and falls, her white tank doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that her nipples are pressing against the fabric.
Now I just feel like the world's biggest creep.
Usually, a situation like this would be a turn-on, but all I want to do is get the hell out of this room or for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
"What are you… What is that?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep as her eyes blink open and slowly focus on me.
Screw it.
"Yeah, so… I did something, and you're not gonna like it."
The buzzing sound fills the space between us as I point awkwardly down to the box on the floor. Her eyes suddenly widen, darting between me and the box of secrets barely tucked under her bed.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snaps as she scrambles out of bed.
She's blushing so hard it travels down her neck, and honestly, I've never seen her turn this shade of red before. It might even be cute if I wasn't genuinely fearing for my life right now. She dives for the box, not bothering to pull it out completely, instead reaching underneath to fumble with the switch until the buzzing abruptly stops.
"Hey," I say, raising my hands in surrender, "it was sticking out from under your bed, and I accidentally kicked it. I swear I wasn't looking for anything."
She looks like she's about two seconds away from beating my ass.
"Amelia—"
"I'm going to kill you,"she hisses, her voice low as she faces me, her tiny pajamas doing absolutely nothing to make her less intimidating.
"I didn't see anything!"
"Get out of my room!"
"I just came to see if you wanted to join me for coffee. I'm meeting Harry, maybe Jen, and Tessa will be there. She mentioned yesterday that she wants to meet you."
She spins to face me, eyes narrowed. "I'm not going anywhere with you until I can forget the last five minutes of my life."
"Oh, come on. It's not that bad. So you like sex—so what? Admittedly, I prefer having sex with other people, but…"
"Yeah, well, hooking up with strangers isn't my thing. Unless I take a page out of your book and fuck the first person I see when I step outside the front door." The fire in her voice almost masks her embarrassment, but I know her better than she realizes. "Maybe I should just yell out my window and start blowing the first guy ready to drop his pants for me." I raise an eyebrow, but she's not done. "Fuck, Tobias. Stay out of my room."
"I'm sorry, okay. I'd never intentionally embarrass you. You know that." She lets out a frustrated breath, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling like she's praying to the universe to end her suffering.
"If you ever bring this up again, I swear I'll smother you in your sleep."
"Now you're just talking dirty to me, baby."
"Tobias!"
"Fine, fine. I won't bring it up. But I promise you, one day, we'll laugh about this."
"Whatever. I know you're practically pissing your pants right now."
"For a moment there, I was shitting my pants. You're terrifying when you're mad. Now do you want to come?" Her eyes widen, the glare sharpens, and how hard I'm laughing leaves me nearly hunched over.
"You know I hate you, right?" she deadpans, arms crossed over her chest.
It takes me a moment to catch my breath, yet I continue to laugh. "I'm sorry. I swear that wasn't even on purpose. Let me try again—would you like tojoin me for coffee?"
She sighs heavily, but a hint of amusement hides behind her annoyance. "Sure."
"I'll leave you with your box then," I say with a grin, barely dodging the pillow she hurls at me. "You've got an hour, Firefly."