Chapter 13
13
OPHELIA
“I think you’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever had ‘just sex’ with,” I hear him say in the darkness. My body goes stiff as the words ring in my ears, not only because of how genuine they sound but also because of how they make me feel. I’ve been told I’m pretty plenty of times in my life, but something about the words coming from him feels different. They make me feel different from the other men who have spoken them before.
Instead of responding, I lay next to him in the quiet of the night and try not to panic because of how my heart is racing. Because of his words. Because of how he makes me feel. Because I’m stupid enough to let him stay and sleep in my bed with me . I’m breaking all the rules I’ve created for myself over the years for a guy who is more than likely going to be sleeping with another girl by Tuesday. My heart sinks as I glance over to where he’s lying next to me, sleeping soundly and breathing deeply.
What the fuck are you doing, girl?
* * *
The sound of the buzzer to my door causes me to stir and I groan audibly in response. Who the hell is buzzing at the door so early on a Sunday? Instead of getting up to answer it, I roll over to the opposite side of the bed and tuck my head into the pillow. The door buzzes again, causing me to crack my eyes open just enough to allow for the images of my room to come into focus. I don’t feel Malcolm moving next to me like any normal human would at being awoken by the obnoxious sound. Reaching an arm out, I swipe it along my bed and realize it’s empty. My eyes fling open and my body juts up in bed, frantically looking around my room. After the deepest night of sleep I’ve had in years, my brain is taking its sweet time regaining full consciousness and functionality. None of his stuff is where I remember it being last night when we got into bed—he didn’t seriously leave did he? And why does the thought of him slipping out without saying goodbye make my heart lurch so much? The buzzing at my door stops just as my phone starts to vibrate from where I have it plugged in on my dresser.
“What the actual hell people, leave me alone,” I groan as I get out of bed to go and answer it. Still half asleep, I slide my thumb across the screen to answer it without looking to see who’s calling first.
“What?” I snap at the caller, annoyed that I had been pulled from sleep too soon. When Bailey lived with me, she would always be out and back before I even woke up but she never woke me before I came out on my own. I don’t like being woken up any earlier than I have to be and if you look up the definition of ‘morning grouch’ you’d find a picture of me smack in the middle of the page.
“Well good morning to you, princess,” Malcolm’s voice soothes over the line. “Open the door and let me in.” Let me in? What was he talking about?
“You woke me up,” I grumble through the line and I hear him chuckle softly. Fuck my stupid heart and the way it warms at the sound of it.
“I figured and I’m sorry about that. I promise it’ll be worth it. Come on, come open the door,” he coaxes.
Without responding, I scowl at the floor with my phone at my ear and walk towards my front door to push the call button. A few minutes later, he knocks on my front door and when I pull it open, I find him standing in the hallway holding a large cardboard box, a newspaper, and a carrier with two coffee cups nestled inside. He’s wearing different clothes than he was last night and is now in a pair of dark gray sweats, a T-shirt, and has his hair pulled back. For the first time, I see him wearing a pair of black, thick-framed glasses. The way they frame his face highlight his square jawline and pronounced cheekbones. Who knew glasses could be so hot?
“Good morning, princess.” He gives me a smile that shows off his teeth and I hate the way his face makes me feel.
“Ugh, cut it out with the nickname, you’re going to make me puke.” I gag and step aside to let him in.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” He flashes me another smile and pumps his eyebrows at me as he makes his way into the kitchen. I follow behind him and pull myself up onto one of the stools that’s tucked under the bar. He sets a coffee down in front of me with a wink and opens the cardboard box. Inside are an assortment of freshly baked donuts and bagels. My eyes feast on them for a moment before I look at him.
“You went and got breakfast?” Not once has anyone ever gone out and gotten me breakfast.
“Yeah. I also ran home quickly and changed so I didn’t have to wear my work clothes. But I stopped on the way back and picked these up, I hope I got some you like.” He turns the box and pushes it closer to me so I can take the first pick. Tucking my bottom lip over my teeth, I wiggle my fingers over the open box and pull out a donut that’s covered in sprinkles. I close my eyes as I take a bite and when I do, a moan escapes me as the sugar and butter awaken my senses. When I finish the bite and open my eyes again, I find him staring back at me with a smile.
“What?” I deadpan with a mouth full of donut.
“Nothing, I just think you’re cute. That’s all.” He shakes his head at me and doesn’t look away.
“You do not, don’t say things like that.”
“Like what? The truth?” I have the donut pulled halfway back to my mouth and I pause to look at him because of what he’s said. He doesn’t seriously think I’m cute, does he? This is supposed to be ‘just sex,’ you don’t find your fuck buddies cute.
At least, you’re not supposed to.
I take another bite of the pastry and wave a hand at him. “I’m not having this conversation with you. What’s the newspaper for?” I ask, attempting to shift the focus on anything besides us.
“Uhm, to read?” he snickers, grabbing the paper and his coffee and moving to sit in the stool beside me.
“You read the paper? Like the physical paper ?”
“Everyday.” He lifts himself up into the stool and unfolds the paper. His head tilts back and he starts to read the front cover over the bridge of his nose through his glasses. His posture mirrors that of an old man sitting in a barcalounger. Some might say he almost looks…cute. I can’t stop myself from laughing at him which causes him to turn his head to look at me. “What’s so funny?”
I shake my head nonchalantly. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”
He sets the paper down and moves his glasses to the top of his head. As he does, the veins in his forearm swell and pop out. “Something is clearly amusing, spit it out.”
“It’s nothing, it’s just,” I pause and pull my lips in between my teeth. “You’re just not what I expected, that’s all.” This gets him to fold the paper back up and fully look at me, resting his tattooed elbows against the bar.
“And what were you expecting?”
I think about it for a moment before speaking. “I guess someone like me. Someone who only sticks around for a good time and then moves on. Not someone who stays the night and then goes to get donuts and the paper to read the next morning. When you so rudely woke me up this morning and I saw you were gone, I guess I wasn’t surprised by the thought that you had left before I woke up. It’s what I would have done…it’s what I have done.”
His eyes drop to the counter and he chews on the inside of his lip. “Normally I am like that, but I don’t know. There’s something about you that makes me want to be different.”
“Eww, please don’t tell me you’re catching the feels? I don’t do emotions or feelings.” My face morphs into a grimace and I roll my eyes.
“Not yet you don’t,” he says confidently before grabbing his paper and stepping down from the stool. My mouth falls open as he walks towards the couch. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“It’s just sex, remember?” I state, turning to look at him. He takes a seat on the couch and unfolds the newspaper again, opening up the first few pages to read.
“Sure, sure. Just sex. Whatever you say, princess.” He doesn’t look at me and instead gives the paper an overconfident grin and moves his glasses back down to the bridge of his nose. If he didn’t look so hot sitting there with his stupid glasses and the stupid paper I would have told him to get the hell out. I huff out a breath in a sad attempt to get my emotions in check.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” I announce, standing from the stool with a purpose. He doesn’t look at me which just irritates me more. “Hello? Are you listening? I said I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Are you asking me to come with you?” He folds the paper over and looks in my direction, peering at me over his glasses. God, why are glasses to fucking sexy?
“No, I just wanted to make sure you were paying attention.” My bottom lip pouts as we hold one another’s gaze.
“I’m always paying attention to you.”
I roll my eyes at him even though my heart does a flip. Little traitor.
“Are you going to be here when I come out?” I ask pointedly.
“I’ll only leave if you tell me to,” he offers with raised brows.
I push my lips out and study him with my arms crossed in front of me. We have a stare off for a few seconds before I turn on my heels and walk into my bedroom. Before stripping out of my nightgown and getting into the shower, I pop my head out and look at him, still on the couch and reading the Sunday paper.
“I want you to stay,” I say quietly, my words small and almost unsure.
“Then I’ll stay.” He doesn’t look up from the paper as he says it but his lips pull back into the widest smile I’ve seen him shed yet.