Chapter Twenty-Five - Mirabelle
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Mirabelle
“YAHTZEE! I WIN,” Kaitlyn shouts, throwing her arms triumphantly in the air, traces of glitter still on her cheeks from the game earlier tonight.
Henry frowns, staring at the score sheet in front of him. “No, there’s no way.”
Wilson grins, clapping his hands as I take a sip of my wine. “Little Price, thank you for making my absolute year right now.”
“Shut the fuck up, Wilson,” Henry says, still staring at the score sheet in disbelief.
Wilson bursts out laughing. “This is the best game night ever.”
“How did you even find the Yahtzee?” Henry asks, and Kaitlyn sticks her tongue out at her brother. I think I agree with Wilson, this is the best game night ever. Every game night we’ve ever had on a family trip, Henry has dominated. I guess that’s because we never played Yahtzee.
“Wilson asked me to bring the one from our parents’ house. What happened to yours?” she explains and I laugh, leaning against the couch as Henry glares at Wilson.
“I had no idea you were such a sore loser,” I muse, laughing quietly. He’s like a little kid who can’t have dessert before dinner.
“He hid it so he wouldn’t lose. You’re exactly right, Mira. Henry is a sore loser,” Wilson says.
Henry stretches out, a playful glint in his eye. “I’m not a sore loser. If there were a gold medal for game nights, I would have one.”
“Only one of us has a gold medal here, and it’s not you,” Kaitlyn chimes in and Henry rolls his eyes.
“I didn’t say I had one, but that I would have one because I dominate at game night.”
I lean over and pat his thigh. “Everything but Yahtzee, apparently.”
Kaitlyn snorts, lying backward on the rug. “Mirabelle, have I ever told you how much I love you? Henry needs someone like you to help him relax a little.”
“Wonder Woman would really help him relax,” Wilson says, winking at me. Oh shit.
Henry’s face is flaming red, and if looks could kill, Wilson would cease to exist. “I’m going to kill you.”
“What does Wonder Woman have to do with Henry relaxing?” Kaitlyn asks, and then the dots connect in her head as I cover my mouth to stop laughing. “ Ew . I didn’t need to know that. Oh my god, gross.”
“I was like fourteen,” Henry exclaims, dragging his hands over his face. “Wilson, I’m literally going to make you sleep at your own house.”
“That’s cold, dude. At least you could offer to put me up in a hotel.”
Kaitlyn pretends to gag, still not past it yet, and it isn’t helping me laugh quietly. The last thing I want is for Henry’s glare to turn on me because I’m technically the only reason Wilson knows about Wonder Woman.
“I am not putting you up in a hotel. If anything, you’ll be lucky I don’t hide your body in the walls of your house.” Henry scoffs, tossing the scoresheet aside.
“I think I’m going to call it a night before anyone actually ends up murdered because Henry can’t handle losing, or before I want to cut my ears off and burn them,” Kaitlyn says, sitting up and pulling her dark hair back, wrinkling her nose.
“I can handle losing,” Henry protests, and I drink the last of my wine.
“Whatever.” Kaitlyn scoffs, and Wilson grabs his phone.
“I think I’m going to hit the hay too.”
“Night, Kait. Love you,” Henry says, momentarily forgetting his irritation at being bested by her.
“Love you too, bro,” she says, smiling.
“I love all of you so much,” Wilson says, and I laugh as I watch Henry flip him off in return.
And then it’s only me and Henry.
I wonder if he’s feeling half as nervous as I am, because I think I’m going to get the nervous shits.
A lot of things have happened recently that I never expected, but sleeping in Henry’s room might be the icing on the cake. Actually, I think making a sex to-do list should be at the top of that list. Also, Henry kissing me out of nowhere earlier tonight to tell me he thinks my smile is beautiful, too?
It’s like I’m in a goddamn romance book.
Actually, what if I bring a book to bed? Then it seems like I’m not expecting anything from that list to happen tonight, simply because we’re supposed to sleep in the same room.
“Ready to go to bed?” Henry asks, scratching the back of his neck. Shit, now I don’t want him to be nervous. I need confident Henry who told me to use him however I wanted.
Wait—I’m fucking confident too.
“Yeppers,” I say, immediately cringing. Why did I say it like that?
I grab my empty glass, tempted to pour another drink before I go to Henry’s room. Henry Freaking Price’s room! I can’t believe this.
Setting the glass in the sink, I take the initiative, looking at Henry over my shoulder to see if he’s following.
Instead, he’s looking at my ass.
Good. It’s a good ass.
“Are you coming?”
Henry cracks a slanted smile, laughing shortly. “Yeah, I guess so.”
I let out a shaky exhale after turning away, realizing what a phony I am. I falter in front of the door, but I push through and step into his room. I don’t think I’ve been in his room long enough to look around. Sure, I’ve stood in the doorway, or I guess if I needed something, I’d walk in, ask for it, and then leave.
Not tonight, I guess.
I stand there awkwardly for a moment, and Henry grabs a pillow, dropping it on the floor next to the bed. “You can have the bed, I’ll take the floor.”
“No, you don’t have to do that,” I protest, kicking into action to pick up the pillow from the floor to put it back on the bed, only to grab a different one for myself. “It’s your bed, Henry. I’m not going to kick you out of it—especially when you have a game this weekend. I’ll sleep on the floor,” I insist, and Henry shakes his head, moving to take the pillow from me.
“My house, my rules.”
“You can take your rules and shove them up your ass,” I say, plopping my amazing ass on the ground stubbornly. “You take the bed. I will take the floor.”
Henry looks down at me, his face turning into one of amusement. “No.”
“I’ll get up if you tell me what happened at the football game with Duke,” I bargain, and Henry frowns.
“No, I’m not telling you that.”
“Then I guess I’m sleeping on the floor,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
Henry drags a hand through his dark hair. “Mira, you’re a woman, take the bed and let me take the floor.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, so you think because you’re a man, you’re superior to me?”
“That’s not what I said,” he argues, but I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what he said. “I’m trying to do the right thing and give you the bed.”
If I were standing up, I’d stomp my foot at that, so maybe it’s a good thing I’m sitting on the floor.
“I don’t need you to do the right thing. I need you to not be a sexist man and to tell me what happened tonight. Get in the goddamn fucking bed, Henry.”
“Has anyone ever told you how bossy you are?” he asks, and I scowl up at him.
“Va te faire foutre.” 24
“Volontiers,” 25 Henry replies.
“You’re seriously not going to tell me what happened?” I ask again, hoping that he’ll change his mind, but I’m definitely just distracting myself from Henry saying he’d gladly kiss my ass.
He looks up at the ceiling and sighs. “No, it’s not any of our business.”
I’m sorry, what?
“It involved Duke at my little brother’s football game. Pretty sure that makes it my business.” I stand up, staring at him. I kind of hate how much taller he is than me. Actually, now that I’m standing, I think stomping my foot is childish, but it would be effective for expressing how I feel at this moment.
“Mira . . .” Henry trails off, at least having the nerve to look guilty. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You’re right. You shouldn’t have, but now you can be the stupid man on the floor. I’m taking the bed,” I say, walking past him, only to realize I’m still wearing my outside clothes. I have a rule that clothes worn outside don’t touch the bedsheets because the world is disgusting, but I didn’t think to pack clothes. Ideally, I would shower too, but I’m not totally sure I trust myself not to jump Henry’s bones.
“To sleep in the bed, you have to get in it,” Henry adds, clearly choosing violence.
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms again. “I’m thinking.”
“Outside clothes?” he guesses, and it’s infuriating how well Henry knows me, yet at the same time, he’s been so blind to how I feel about him.
“Yes,” I grumble.
“The top drawer in my dresser has T-shirts and they’ll probably fit you like a dress.”
“Thank you,” I admit, deciding I can forgo the shower tonight. I look over my shoulder to see him already lying on the floor, his tattoos peeking out from underneath the blanket he took from the bed.
As Henry scrolls on his phone, I change into the shirt and flip the light switch, before crawling into bed without further argument. I’m too tired to deal with Henry and my feelings.
Closing my eyes, a small part of me feels guilty Henry is sleeping on the floor. It is his bed, and there’s plenty of room if we stay on our own sides.
Whatever. He’s the one who won’t tell me what happened tonight.
Hunter and I made some progress tonight. He was excited about the win and even apologized for the shit he said to me earlier in the week. It was a huge weight off my shoulders, but it still doesn’t fix anything with Bailey. I mean, what on earth is going on with him? Is it drugs? Actually, drugs would make sense. I didn’t have it in me to ask Hunter if things had changed with Bailey because I was so fucking relieved he was talking to me, but would it be bad if it happened to come up at Sunday’s game?
Oh shit, I should probably write down that I need to ask Mom if the arson investigators have turned up any new leads with the house. I’m not in any rush to move out of Henry’s house, but it would be nice to know if they’ve found anythi—
“You are thinking so loudly I can’t sleep,” Henry interrupts my train of thought.
“How can thinking be loud if it’s internal?” I question, giggling quietly.
“It just is, Mira. Go to sleep.”
I roll in the bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. God, it all smells like Henry. “If you want to sleep in the bed, you can. There’s plenty of room.”
“I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m fine down here,” he replies carefully.
“Suit yourself. I’m making a pillow wall in case you decide you’re sick of the floor. If you do come up, keep your hands to your own side of the bed.” I use three pillows for extra measures, but I hope he says fuck it and throws them off the bed to hold me. Please don’t keep your hands to yourself.
“Goodnight, Mirabelle,” his deep voice rumbles. I close my eyes as I relax in Henry’s bed, his crisp, comforting scent surrounding me.
“Night, Henry,” I mumble back, sinking into a deep long sleep.