Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Jay
This morning could’ve gone way better.
I could’ve woken up slowly with Liv in my arms, maybe even given in to the way she was pushing me, tempting me like she had every intention of breaking me in two.
Instead, I’m standing in the kitchen, still shirtless for whatever reason, while my best friend eats half a dozen croissants and his fiancé accuses me of marital-level commitment after one night of sleeping. Literally sleeping.
I sink into the chair opposite Liv, find one of my hoodies on the chair, and pull it on before grabbing a croissant from the bag, and try not to stare at the way her sweatshirt slips off her shoulder.
“Jay,” Daphne singsongs.
I glance up. Mistake. She’s grinning like she knows every damn thing running through my head.
“We’re waiting,” she says.
“For what?”
“Our Friendsgiving planning meeting,” she says, all fake innocent. “What did you think I meant?”
Hudson snorts into his coffee. “Pretty sure Jay’s mind is elsewhere.”
I raise a middle finger at him. “No, it’s thinking about Friendsgiving, fuck you very much.”
“So, where are we hosting it?” Liv asks.
“Our place makes the most sense,” Daphne says, already scribbling in her notebook. “It’s the biggest, and Rosie can nap in her bed. Win-win.”
The rest falls into place quicker than I expect. Quinn and Miles are already volunteering for dessert duty, Finn and Foxx are in, too, while Seb and Indie can’t make it but promised to FaceTime if they can. Everyone else agrees to bring something homemade—easy, done.
Hudson dusts crumbs off his shirt. “And I’m officially out of croissants, so we should probably go before I eat all of Jay’s food, too.”
Silent relief rushes through me. They gather their stuff, and just before walking out, Daphne swoops in to hug Liv. I don’t hear what she whispers, but judging by Liv’s raised brows and muttered, “Subtle as always,” I don’t need to.
The door clicks shut behind them, and the apartment falls quiet, leaving me standing in the middle of it, not sure what to do as she thuds her head to the wood.
“That was…” She stops and exhales loudly.
“Our friends are ridiculous.”
She hums a laugh and turns, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and I step closer before I can think better of it. My thumb grazes along her jaw, the tips of my fingers threading into her hair. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes flick up to mine, wide and searching, full of sparks and life. “I’m good,” she croaks, then laughs, clearing her throat. “Though Olivia Oliviera is quite something.”
A jolt of warmth travels up my throat at the sound of our names intertwined like that, which is incredibly ridiculous.
And still, I linger there, holding her face in my hands.
Her breath brushes my wrist, and something in me stirs that I don’t quite know how to name.
I lower my head, slow enough to give her the chance to step back, but she doesn’t.
My lips find her forehead, a quiet press that feels far too intimate for what it is.
“Since we’re awake, shall we make your bed? ”
Then everything changes in her eyes, those sparks snuff out, and she shakes her head. “Yeah, of course, you’ll want to sleep in your own bed tonight without… yeah, let’s do that.” She goes to move away, but I stop her, my hand closing gently around her wrist.
“Hey, that’s not what I meant.”
She pulls against me, and I let her go. “No, it’s fine, the bed’s here, it makes sense.”
“Olivia,” I begin.
“Come on, let’s just—”
“If you think for one second I want you out of my bed so I can sleep alone, you’re wrong.
If you want to sleep alone, that’s different, I’ll give you space…
” I pull her back to me, moving that stray curl from her face.
“But make no mistake, I want to do anything but sleep in either of our beds. So if you’ll have me, I’ll be there. ”
Her mouth twists, hiding a smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I turn and grab the toolkit from the cupboard before I do something dumb like get on my knees in the hallway because she’s hypnotizing me with those eyes. “Come on, gatinha. Let’s build this bed before I change my mind and keep you in mine.”
***
“Wait, I think that part’s backward? Or maybe upside down?” Liv says, frowning at the instructions.
I lean over her shoulder, trying not to laugh when I see the pages. “Liv, that’s the wrong page.”
I give her a look, but she sticks her tongue out at me, then grabs one of the wooden slats. “Fine. But I’m still right about this piece.”
I crouch beside her, close enough to smell the faint hint of paint still clinging to her skin, and check the slots she’s pointing to. “Okay… you might actually be right.”
Her grin is immediate, smug, and bright. “Ha! Victory.”
“Don’t get cocky,” I warn, though my lips twitch. “We’ve still got about forty thousand screws to go.”
She groans dramatically, dropping onto her back in the middle of the parts like she’s already defeated. I look down at her spread out on the floor, hair fanned everywhere, and the thought that I could happily build a thousand beds if it means keeping her here almost slips out.
Instead, I clear my throat and hold out a hand. “Come on. Up. You’re not quitting on me now.”
Her fingers slip into mine, warm and trusting, and I tug her back to her feet. We’re closer than I meant us to be, her breath brushing my chest as she steadies. For a beat, neither of us says anything.
She tilts her head, revealing her delicate, slender neck, and I bite back a groan.
“You’re distracting me,” I breathe, leaning in just enough that my words stir against her skin, but not touching.
Those luscious lips curve. “I am, huh?” Her hand untangles from mine and drags down my front until she reaches the waistband of my pants.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice trembling.
She tilts her head further, silently inviting me again. “Isn’t it obvious?”
My pulse pounds, every single cell in my body screaming to let her. To close the last inch and finally take what she’s offering.
Instead, I catch her wrist gently, my thumb brushing her pulse point. “Yeah,” I murmur, forcing myself to meet her eyes. “It is. Which is why I’m gonna stop you before I forget we’re supposed to be building a bed.”
Her laugh bubbles out, exasperated and amused all at once, and I steal the moment to press her knuckles to my lips.
“Come on. Bed first, everything else later.”
The look she gives me could set fire to the damn wood, but she kneels anyway, tool in hand, muttering under her breath, “You’re no fun.”
I grin despite the ache in my chest. “Oh, I’m plenty of fun. You’ll see.”