Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Britt saw the exact moment the puzzle pieces fell into place because Linc’s expression riveted her to the spot.
He remembered what they’d done last night.
The same way she had after hearing his conversation with Jake.
Not everything was clear, but she’d remembered enough to know with certainty that it was Linc’s bed she’d slept in Friday night.
“It was you?” He mouthed the words instead of voicing them.
She mouthed back, “Yes.”
He dropped his arms and took a step back. “Did you know all along?”
“Not until I heard you talking to Jake.”
“On the plane.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “That’s why you were so quiet in the car. I could tell you were uncomfortable.” He looked as unsettled as she felt. “I didn’t know why because you’ve never acted like you were uncomfortable around me before.”
“Well, to be fair, I’ve never slept with you before.”
She hadn’t meant the comment to sound so flippant, but when his eyes locked on hers, her stomach bottomed out.
Ever since she’d realized it was Linc she’d spent the night with, little snippets had started coming back.
She remembered them stumbling to his room together.
Laughing and kicking off her shoes. At some point during the night, she awoke to find herself lying in bed with him spooning her back. Most of the rest was elusive and fuzzy.
How was that fair? She could remember spooning and tossing her stupid shoes, but not the good stuff? She’d slept with the only friend of hers who could make her heart skip, and she didn’t remember the good stuff?
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.
“I didn’t know what to say?” God, this is awkward. “You didn’t remember.”
“But you did?”
“Um, no. Not really. I mean, I woke up in someone else’s room—yours, it turns out—and snuck out before he—you woke up.” She buried her face in her hands. “God, that sounds horrible! I swear, this isn’t a thing! I don’t make a habit of waking up in random guys’ rooms. I don’t.”
“I know.”
She sure hoped that was true.
“You left because you didn’t want to talk about it.”
“No,” she corrected. “I left before I knew it was you.”
Would I still have left? Probably?
“I kind of freaked out,” she confessed. “I woke up with a hangover and didn’t know where I was. Then, when I realized I was in bed with someone, I was afraid to find out who, so I grabbed my stuff and left.” And now I’m rambling. Great.
He didn’t say anything.
“If I’d known it was you, I’d…”
Unable to finish that statement, she gave a noncommittal shrug, suddenly fascinated by her manicure.
Pink gel polish tipped each finger, aside from her ring fingers.
Those were covered with silver glitter polish.
Why did painting one or two nails a different color than the rest become a trend?
Was it to highlight your marital status by drawing attention to whether or not you were wearing a wedding ring?
If that were true, her momma must’ve started it because she never passed up an opportunity to point out that Britt wasn’t married.
“You’d what, Britt?” Linc coaxed.
The fact he’d called her by her actual name, rather than “Zana,” made the moment seem even more surreal.
“Honestly? I don’t know what I would’ve done,” she admitted.
“So, we slept together,” Linc began carefully, “or did we sleep together?”
“Apparently, you have my underwear,” she quipped. “What do you think?” She’d been shooting for breezy, but fell short by a mile.
Wait a minute.
She rewound the words in her head.
Oh, God. He has my underwear!
Linc looked shell shocked. “I think I need to sit down.”
He wasn’t the only one.
She was surprised when he took her by the hand and led her to the couch, tugging her down beside him as he sat.
The silence was unnerving. She could only imagine what was going through his head.
Scratch that. She had no flipping clue what he was thinking, and that was even worse.
She bit her thumb. It was a bad habit she unconsciously did when she was thinking… and consciously, apparently, when she was stressed.
Was he waiting for her to say something?
Oh, shit. What if he is?
What did you say to someone you obliterated the friend-zone barrier with, but didn’t remember doing it?
Hey, was it good for you?
Was it good for me?
Can I crawl into a hole and die now?
Linc reached his free hand over and pulled her hand away from her mouth like it was second nature. “I don’t know if I should apologize, or…” He looked down at their still-intertwined fingers. “Is this okay?”
He always held her hand. Neither one of them had ever thought anything of it, but now he obviously felt the need to ask, and she hated that he did.
The last thing she wanted was for things to be awkward between them…
because, you know, not remembering sleeping with your best friend, but really wishing you could sleep with your best friend again so you could remember sleeping with him wasn’t awkward at all.
When he started to let go, she realized she hadn’t answered. “Yes,” she said, tightening her grip. “Of course, it is.”
“I don’t know how to act now,” he confessed.
“Me neither.”
“Should we smoke a cigarette?”
She giggled. “Linc!” No matter what, he could always make her laugh.
“Oh, right. We don’t smoke,” he said with a grin.
“No, we don’t.”
He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, a move he didn’t seem conscious of. So why was she suddenly hyper-focused on the feel of his skin on hers?
After another painful stretch of silence, he let out a heavy sigh. “What do we do now?”
Do it again, only sober, so I can experience everything with you and remember every detail in technicolor.
“I don't know.”
“We could pretend it never happened.”
It came out as more of a question than a statement. Still, she could read between the lines. That’s what he wanted to do… pretend it never happened.
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t want to mess anything up between us.” He sounded like he was choosing his words carefully, trying to let her down easily. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t want it to get weird.”
“Neither do I.” And she honestly didn’t. Still, it was sobering to realize the idea of them being together obviously wasn’t something he’d ever entertained. Too bad it came a few days late… the sobering part.
“It’s settled then.” He studied her face like he was cataloguing every nuance. A flicker of emotion simmered in his deep brown eyes, but was gone too quickly to define. “What happened in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”
His offer had merit—pretend it never happened and head off hurting their friendship before it became a possibility.
Make a preemptive strike as her third brother, Tripp, would say.
Ever since he’d taken one pre-law class in college, it had become his favorite saying.
She really hated that saying, yet here she was thinking it. Thanks a lot, Tripp.
She placed her slender hand into Linc’s much larger one, but couldn’t help feeling a little twinge of sadness when they shook. “Deal.”