Chapter Seventeen
I am so damn comfortable right now, warm and the smell of Noah is wrapping me up like a hug. Arms tighten around me, pulling me tighter against a solid presence at my back.
Wait a minute…
I pry one eye open, noticing the familiar cream walls of Noah’s bedroom.
I’m in his bed. He’s lying behind me.
Slowly, I move onto my back, his grumbles of protest sending shivers through me, but then I see him, still sleeping, his arm draped over me. Each time I move, he tightens his hold, keeping me pinned to him.
“Noah,” I whisper.
“Mm,” he mumbles sleepily, dragging me impossibly closer to him so he can bury his face into the side of my neck. I think I stop breathing while my heart kicks up in speed.
We slept in the same bed. Together.
A squeak leaves me as he tightens his arm and he runs his nose down the column of my throat.
“Fuck,” he rasps, voiced edged in grit, “best way to wake up.”
So my brain doesn’t short-circuit finally kissing my best friend. It manages to get through the best sex of my life with my best friend and all that comes with that, but what it can’t get over is literally sleeping with the man. Make it make sense.
I don’t know what to do with my arms. Or my legs. I’m sort of just led here like a log, staring up at a sun-drenched ceiling while he nuzzles into me.
He runs his nose back up my neck, to my jawline, but then he stops and for a minute, neither of us even breathes.
I listen to the clock tick for four seconds before he finally releases me and pushes up to rest on his elbow.
The warmth of his chest presses into the side of me and I flick my eyes to his face, tracing his features as they are kissed by the morning light.
The muscles of his body are highlighted in a halo of gold, his hair adorably mused with one half sticking up a little as if he hasn’t moved an inch all night.
“We’re in the same bed,” I whisper. I remember passing out watching the movie with Noah on the couch and vaguely recall being moved from there and into a bed. It just hadn’t occurred to me whose bed it was.
“Is that a problem?” He presses his tongue to his canine as he grins boyishly.
Is it a problem? Wasn’t I complaining about this only a few days ago?
“Well, I don’t know,” I swallow.
“Don’t overthink, cricket,” he whispers his fingers down the side of my face. “But I’m not going to deny how fucking good it feels or how well I slept.”
“I slept good too,” I admit.
I always sleep the best when I’m near him, even if it’s just in the same apartment.
His eyes bounce between mine as he slips his fingers into my hair, his fingers twitching against my scalp.
He leans in a little closer, and I turn into his orbit, parting my lips in preparation, but right before his mouth touches mine, a cramp twists in my lower abdomen.
It immediately has me curling up, pushing Noah away.
Fuck.
Happens every month, catches me off guard every time.
“Sid?” I push out of bed and stumble to the bathroom, feeling that dreaded gush the moment I am stood upright.
I literally wrote a schedule; it was right there in red pen that Mother Nature was coming to visit my uterus this week, and here I am, wholly unprepared and cramping like a bitch.
“Are you okay?” I hear Noah yell as the door slams in his face.
The first day of my period is always the worst: the cramps, the blood, it’s a mass exodus during those first twenty-four hours and the worst time of my life. I swear I’ll never get used to it despite having periods for over half of my life now.
Fucking bullshit if you ask me. What the fuck do you mean I have to deal with periods and do all the heavy lifting that comes with reproduction?
“Sidney?” Noah calls through the door.
“I’m fine,” I huff loud enough for him to hear. I’m not fine. I want my hot water bottle, but first, tampons. “I need you to go get my purse for me.”
“Your purse?”
“Noah, please. Can you just grab it for me and bring it here?”
I listen to his steps move away from the door, fidgeting with my thumbs as I wait for him to return. He knocks once and then turns the handle on the door before he places my purse inside, promptly shutting the door behind him.
Using my toe, I hook the strap and drag it closer, pulling it onto my lap so I can rummage through to find what I need.
“No, no,” I groan, tipping the purse upside down to show I have no tampons and no pads inside. “Fuck!”
“Sid,” Noah’s concerned tone sounds from the other side of the door again, “What’s wrong?”
Hanging my head, I admit defeat. “Can you run to the store for me, please?”
“Of course I can. What do you need?”
“Tampons.”
A pause.
Listen, periods are natural. I don’t believe anyone should ever be made to feel ashamed for something that is quite literally out of their control, and I don’t shy away from talking about them.
But I also like to be prepared, to be able to handle it the way I want to, and asking my best friend—the man I am actively fucking—to go buy me tampons makes me feel a touch vulnerable.
“What kind?” He finally responds.
Pulling my cell out, I screenshot the ones I usually use and send it to him, listening to the ping of his phone through the door.
“Got it,” he calls, “Be right back.”
The apartment goes quiet, so I decide to hop in the shower, the warm water helping only a little to ease the cramps.
I take my time, remaining under the spray until the hair on the nape of my neck stands on end.
Sensing his eyes, I turn around, finding him leaning on the counter with his arms crossed, hair still disheveled from sleep.
He’s dressed in a pair of gray sweats and a tight white tee; an outfit I don’t see him in often since he wears suits and ties most of the time.
“Hey,” his head cocks to the side a little, eyes dipping down my naked body.
Beside him are the tampons I asked for and a pair of his boxer shorts.
“Are you okay?”
Hitting the button to turn off the shower, I step out, the chill in the air immediately making my skin pebble with goosebumps. Noah unwraps a towel from the rack and wraps it around me.
“Caught me off guard is all,” I look down at the tiles beneath my feet.
“It’s okay,” he tips my chin back up, “What can I do?”
“Coffee? And some pain pills.”
“Get dressed, cricket, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
His hand slides to the back of my neck, slipping under my wet hair so he can squeeze lightly, and then he presses his lips to my forehead, my heart swelling three sizes.
He leaves me to get changed so I get myself sorted, slip his boxers on and then go search for a fresh tee only to find he’s completely stripped the bed, the sheets in a pile by the door. I can see the red stain from where I leaked through in the folds, and my cheeks heat.
When I finally make it out to the kitchen, Noah’s sitting at the island with his laptop in front of him, but his attention snaps to me the moment he hears me come in.
“I’ll, uh, replace the sheets.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the sheets.”
“I bled on them.”
He stares at me for a beat and then shakes his head before he closes his laptop and reaches for the bottle of pills on the counter, sliding them toward me.
“What do you want to eat?” He gets up off the stool and heads to a pile of bags in front of the couch before he pulls out a hot water bottle with the tags still attached.
“Why do you have that?”
“Sit down, Sid,” he orders. “We’re taking the day off.”
“What?” My eyes bug out. “I can’t do that.”
“You don’t have any collections today.” He points out.
“Well, no, but—”
“When was the last time you took a spontaneous day off?”
“I haven’t,” I watch him fill the bottle with hot water, screwing up the top tightly before he rights the fluffy cover and walks back toward me.
“Neither have I,” he jerks his chin toward the couch, “And I think we should.”
“But the shop…”
“I’ll run down and put up a sign for you.”
“Don’t you have meetings?”
“I can reschedule.”
“Why are you doing this?” I haven’t moved, so he guides me with a gentle hand, pushing me down onto the couch. He yanks off the blanket and puts it over my legs and then places the hot water bottle against my stomach, the warmth seeping through the t-shirt.
“Let me take care of you, cricket,” he softens. “Please.”
I go to argue, but something in his face, the way he’s pleading with his eyes, has me snapping my mouth closed.
“Okay,” I answer after a beat, “But I do actually need to put up a sign.”
“I’ll do that,” he grins, his eyes sparking, “but first, food.”