Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVERLY
Twenty minutes and five hair washes later, I was fresh and clean and…
still smelling faintly of smoke. I had no idea how long I’d be giving off that campfire aroma or how many showers I’d have to take before the scent would completely disappear, but I hoped it wouldn’t linger for too long.
I didn’t want the constant reminder of what’d happened tonight clinging to me while I tried to figure out what I was going to do.
Magically, a stack of Beck’s clothes had been waiting for me just outside the bathroom door when I’d opened it, wrapped up in one of his surprisingly plush towels.
I tucked myself back inside and slipped into the garments, letting his familiar scent wash over me and comfort me in a way I hadn’t anticipated needing.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall as I pulled on one of his T-shirts and stepped into the pair of far-too-long sweatpants sans panties—I was going to have to go commando until I could replace my undergarments.
Wearing his clothes felt like a constant hug, and I’d take all the hugs I could get right now.
I didn’t think the full impact of what had happened had even registered completely, but these waves of emotions still washed over me at random times, the despair over all I’d lost nearly overwhelming. But I’d figure out a way to get through it. I always did.
Once I was dressed, I padded out into the main area.
Beck’s apartment was nice. Tidy without being rigid—there was a stack of mail on the counter, the book we’d been reading this week on a side table, and a couple pairs of shoes haphazardly tossed by the door—and warm without being stuffy.
But it was small, just a bedroom, bathroom, and one main room that held a galley-style kitchen and the living area, which housed only two leather recliners, a small table between them both, and a TV large enough to fit right at home in a sports bar.
Luckily, the loungers were super comfortable, so Beck could sleep in his room, and I could stay out here by myself.
Except…I didn’t want to.
My entire life, I’d prided myself on my independence.
I was the kid who’d been babysitting by the age of eight and helping prepare dinners by the time I was ten.
I was the self-starter who entertained herself and took care of what was needed without any reminders.
I’d always just…handled things. But right now, after experiencing the scariest night of my life?
I didn’t want to handle things by myself. I didn’t want to be alone.
At the creak of the floor, Beck turned his chair around to face me, his gaze roving over me from head to toe in an appraisal that felt weighted.
His eyes were a little more scrutinizing, his gaze a little more intense.
A shiver racked my body—no doubt a lingering effect from my earlier adrenaline crash—and I wrapped my arms around myself so he didn’t get an unwanted eyeful of my nipples.
He lifted his chin toward the small end table between the chairs. “Made you a grilled cheese. You need to eat.”
I didn’t want to mention that it was after midnight or that I wasn’t hungry.
In the years we’d been friends, I’d come to realize how he showed he cared was through cooking, so I was going to eat it—as much of it as I could, anyway.
Especially when he’d made my number one comfort food—which he always fancied up with Parmesan-crusted homemade bread—and especially because I knew he must be crawling out of his skin right now, not knowing how to help.
Five minutes ago, I might not have known how he could help, either. But right then, it was clear as day. I needed my person, and that just happened to be the grump who’d reluctantly let me into his life, little by little, because I hadn’t allowed it any other way.
He glanced over at my chair—yes, mine. The one I sat in every Wednesday as we worked our way through old classic shows and every Sunday for book club and nearly every Friday for movie night.
My favorite blanket was piled in the seat, looking soft and comforting.
But not as comforting as the gruff man with a permanent scowl on his face.
Gone was the baseball hat he nearly always wore, and he’d changed into a T-shirt and sweats—both of which looked just as cozy as my blanket.
So instead of sitting in my usual spot, I walked straight to him, ignoring the nest he’d built for me, and dropped into his lap, tucking my legs up to my chest and resting my head on his shoulder.
This was no longer new for us. It’d taken some time, but we were officially over that awkward stage I’d thrown us into in the first place.
The first time I’d hugged him, he’d stood there, completely frozen and arms hanging limply at his sides, until I’d laughed and physically wrapped them around me and told him to squeeze.
Every time after had gotten a bit easier, and now it was a given that he was getting a hug hello and a hug goodbye and that we’d probably also have some sort of cuddle in the middle.
But now, he froze beneath me, his entire body going rigid, hands gripping the chair arms, and I wondered if I’d finally pushed too far.
I might have needed that physical comfort, but it’d been a long night for him, too, and maybe he just wanted to be left alone.
And, well, I was just going to have to deal with it.
“Sorry, I’ll—” I shifted to get off his lap when he set his hands on me, holding me in place.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice gruff and low. Goose bumps erupted on my skin when I settled back into him, his body heat a stark contrast to my other side.
When I didn’t make a move to get up, he plucked the blanket from the other chair and draped it over me, nestling me in against him. Then he grabbed the plate of grilled cheese and put it right under my nose. “Eat.”
“Have we entered the single-syllable part of the night?”
“What? No.”
I giggled as I took a small bite of the sandwich. “That might’ve been two words, but still only a single syllable each.”
“Don’t make me feed you.”
I tipped my head back and grinned up at him, which earned me an eye roll in response. As Beck turned on the TV and cued up the search bar to find us something to watch, I ate my sandwich, nixing every suggestion he gave—all seven of them.
“I don’t know why you do this to yourself,” I said. “I always want to watch the same thing after a rough day. And I’d say this was pretty rough.”
His chest lifted with a deep inhale, and I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. “You’re really going to make me watch Gossip Girl at one o’clock in the morning?”
“You can pretend you don’t like it all you want, but don’t think I haven’t noticed how you shush me if I try to talk during it.”
“I shush you when you try to talk during anything. Which is always, by the way.”
“But if I didn’t talk, how would I irritate you?”
“I’m sure you’d find a way.”
I grinned down at my plate and heard the familiar opening chords to Gossip Girl.
I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve this kind of friendship, but I would forever be grateful.
I could spend the rest of my life thanking Beck for being there for me while I stumbled through these past two years on my own, away from all my family and friends, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
I tipped my head back to tell him as much at the same time he turned toward me, but instead of his lips landing on my forehead like he’d no doubt intended, they pressed softly against mine.
We both stilled, our mouths connected, eyes wide on each other.
His lips were soft, his breath warm, and it all felt so good and safe and comforting that my lids fluttered closed and I melted into him, pressing my lips more firmly against his.
I exhaled a sigh and swiped my tongue out to lick a soft path against his lower lip, and that simple, subtle movement was like a gunshot in the room.
With a groan, he cupped my face and held me tight as he kissed me back.
His mouth was hot and hungry on mine, as if he couldn’t get enough of my taste, and all I could do was grip the front of his T-shirt and hold on for the ride.
He tilted my head how he wanted, swept his tongue into my mouth, and kissed me like I’d never been kissed before.
With desperation and want and so much desire it left me breathless.
I couldn’t believe this was Beck—my Beck—kissing the absolute life out of me, and I was loving every second of it. My God, how had I not known my best friend was a kissing prodigy?
He pulled away only long enough to scrape his teeth against my lower lip, his tongue laving the sting before he dove right back in all over again, and I was a puddle of pure need in his lap.
Without breaking the kiss, I discarded my plate on the table and shifted around so I could straddle him, the blanket falling on the floor as I settled myself over the very thick, very hard bulge in his sweatpants.
Our groans mixed together as I rocked against him, desperate to be closer, for the clothes between us to disappear, to really feel him.
To find out what else I didn’t know about this man.
I wasn’t sure how long we sat there making out like teenagers, only that I had no intention of stopping.
Not when I was finally getting a taste of what every romance I’d ever read had talked about but which I’d never experienced in my life.
Eventually, though, Beck pulled away, still cupping my face, and rested his forehead against mine.
His eyes were closed as we both tried to catch our breath.
But I didn’t want to catch my breath. I wanted to lose it all over again.
“Why’d you stop?” I whispered, my hands somehow resting on his stomach beneath his shirt—when had that happened?—his skin an inferno beneath my palms.
“We can’t do this now,” he said, his voice like gravel. “Not tonight. Not after—”
He swallowed, his eyes haunted, and I nodded, even though I wasn’t very happy about it.
The state of my pussy definitely wasn’t happy about it.
But he had a point. Tonight had been a lot.
If—when—Beck and I did this again, I didn’t want any lingering doubts or hesitations.
Nothing he could angst over as he was known to do.
“Okay.” I twisted back around and settled sideways in his lap, draping my legs over his, still very aware of how hard he was beneath me and trying to ignore the dampness in my borrowed pants. “Not tonight.”
He may have put the brakes on for right now, but now that I knew how he kissed, knew he liked it when I tugged on his lower lip and threaded my fingers through his hair and rocked against him hard enough for us both to gasp, I was definitely exploring that.
He grabbed the blanket from the floor, pressed a kiss to my temple, and restarted Gossip Girl.
Then he wrapped his arms around me and held me as the show played in the background and I tried to come to terms with the fact that a single kiss had just shaken up everything I’d thought I’d known—both about the supposed intimacy I’d had in my life and about my best friend.
And though this day had been the worst day of my life without a doubt, maybe something good could come from it after all.
I fell asleep with Beck’s arms around me, his warmth against my side and his heartbeat beneath my ear.