17. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
JULIAN
The morning light filters into the room as I blink awake against the brightness.
With my mind still foggy from sleep, I notice that something feels different.
I move to stretch, feeling an intense wave of security and warmth.
Something is. . .different. I freeze. My arm is draped over Andrea’s waist and our legs are tangled as if I’d pulled her closer in my sleep.
The wall of pillows that were between us, are nowhere to be found.
She stirs slightly and my breath catches in my throat. She makes a content sound, pressing her bottom half further into me. Before I can yank myself from the bed, her entire body tenses under my arm as she slowly awakens. The same panic ripples through me.
I gently remove my arm as she shifts away, turning over to give me a what the fuck was that? look.
The only word that makes it to the surface of my tongue is, “Morning.”
She blinks, her face puffy from sleep. She looks far too beautiful, and it’s making my chest ache again. The covers bunch at her bare thighs as she moves to a sitting position. I’m enjoying the view of her wearing my shirt a little too much.
“We were cuddling,” she states, a mild frown taking over her face. Her hair is tangled and wild looking as if she tossed around a lot in her sleep. Maybe that’s why I pulled her to me; to get her to stop moving so much. I mean. . .why else?
I nod slowly, my mind going a mile a minute.
I’m looking at her and I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling.
I can blame it on the fact that I have a stunning woman in my bed, but deep down I know that wouldn’t matter if it were anyone else.
My heart’s acting like a fool because it’s Andrea Sommers. “Yes.”
Her head falls into her hands with a groan. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”
I sit up, not liking that she’s distressed. All of my feelings on the matter are tossed to the fucking wind. “Hey, it’s not that big of a deal. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I’m almost positive I sought you out in my sleep.”
She peeks at me through her fingers. “You did?”
Nodding, I instinctively reach out to touch her but stop myself. I choose to run the hand that would rather be glued to her thigh over my face instead. The stubble prickles my skin, reminding me to shave this morning.
“This doesn’t have to be weird,” I assure her. “We can pretend this never happened.” Not that I think that’s remotely possible, but I desperately need to get that cautious look off her face.
Lifting her head, her eyebrows furrow in thought. “You’re right.” She squares her shoulders, looking less wary now. “So what, it was just a friendly snuggle, right?”
I dip my chin, a smile tugging my lips. “Absolutely.”
“So, we’re cool?” she asks, eyes narrowing.
“Always.” Yawning, I rub my eyes with my palms as I flop back against the mattress.
When I look back over, I find her eyes curiously tracing every detail of my face. “There’s no reason to look like. . .”—She motions her hands around my face and torso. — “ that in the morning. It’s insane.”
I grin. “The pretty shade of pink on your cheeks says differently.” I let my gaze roll down her body until I reach her bare thighs. I open my mouth, but the next thing I know, I’m getting smacked in the side of the head with a pillow and Andrea’s laughter floats into the air.
“Perv.”
I chuckle at the mock glare on her face. “I didn’t even say anything.”
She gives me a knowing look as she crosses her arms. “Yet.”
“Fine, but it’s only a little inappropriate,” I admit with a smirk. “I was going to say—”
She jolts forward, her hand covering my mouth. Her eyes are bubbly with amusement. “You’re impossibly infuriating.”
I grab her wrist to move her hand, but don’t let it go. “And you’re ridiculously perfect.”
“Shut up.” She rolls her eyes with a breathy laugh like I’ve told a joke as she pulls her hand back. She steps off the bed. “I’m going to take a bath in your fancy tub and I’m going to use all your fancy soaps,” she tells me as I watch her cross the room. “And Julian?”
My eyes flick up to hers. “Yeah?”
She has a hand on the door and the other placed on her hip. “Quit staring at my legs!”
The bathroom door shuts, and I call out, “Never!”
I find myself holding in a smile, but it’s quickly wiped away as I try to think of anything else but her very naked body being lathered in my soap. The idea of her smelling like me has me turning face down into the pillows with a groan.
ANDREA'S SISTER AND MASON left early this morning to check out of their hotel room before heading to the airport. Willa refused to leave until she promised she’d show up for the holiday.
Andrea apologized profusely over it while we ate breakfast, but truthfully, I like the idea of spending Christmas with her.
I usually spend it with Abigail and her family, but I still catch myself feeling like an outsider at times.
There’s something about holidays that causes me to dissociate.
I get this really strange feeling of existing outside of my body when everyone around me is happy.
My brain perceives extreme amounts of joy as a sense of wrongness, and I get this pit in my stomach that has me waiting for something bad to happen. It could be good to change things up.
It’s now late in the evening as I watch my fake girlfriend pace across the living room floor.
“There should be rules,” I say, and it’s mostly for my benefit. I can’t stand the thought of crossing a line and ruining the relationship we’ve slowly started to build. I’m learning that I like Andrea, and her friendship is starting to mean something to me.
If we want to sell this, we have to be prepared to act as a couple would.
Last night was child’s play. If she was really mine, the whole damn world would know it.
I’m not afraid to love people loudly. It’s also my preferred way to be loved in return—not that it’s something I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
It makes me wonder if maybe I could get a small taste of it now.
I add, “That way boundaries are known at all times. ”
She slides her feet out of her cow slippers, sits on her knees across from me on the couch and taps a pen against the clipboard in her lap. Silence buzzes around us. Neither of us know where to start.
She looks nervous as she quietly mulls something over. Her green eyes cloud with uncertainty as she asks, “We can’t see other people, right?”
I watch her closely, wondering if this is a trap. “Date other people or fuck them?”
Her mouth falls open, stunned by my directness.
I eye her black silk pajama set and momentarily adore how far she’s come since I first met her.
I can tell she’s much more comfortable here.
She no longer feels the need to tiptoe. I enjoy our little routines now that we’ve grown accustomed to each other’s schedules.
I already despise the day she moves out.
“Do you want to see other people, Andrea?” I ask and I don’t expect the idea of that to bother me nearly as much as it does.
Her eyes narrow. “Maybe.”
The muscle in my jaw tightens. “Fine,” I force out and do my best to sound indifferent. “Just be discreet about it.”
For some reason, my words cause her lips to purse and a crease to form between her brows.
She stares at me for a moment before letting out an aggravated breath.
Her hand moves smoothly over the clipboard as she writes something down.
“I won’t be pegged as a cheater. The chances of getting caught are too high. ”
The thought of her having options bugs me, but I let it go. “I agree, so it’s only you and me, then.” I smile at her and what usually has women crawling to be closer to me, it has her scowling.
She points her pen at me. “None of that when we’re alone.”
“None of what? ”
“No flirting without an audience. We need to remain as platonic as we can if we’re to come out on the other side of this.”
I tilt my head, studying her for a beat. Are you afraid to fall in love with me, Andrea? I want to ask, but I don’t. Instead, I say, “I will invite people over often.”
She gives me a hopeless look, but I think she knows I’m only joking—for the most part.
I can’t help it. She’s entirely too fun to fluster.
Her cheeks go pink, and her eyes go all buggy.
The look of her is nearly intoxicating and I can tell it’s a dangerous path now that I’m on it, but I’m not sure I have the willpower to stop.
She rips the paper from the clipboard and bawls it up before tossing it at my head. I don’t attempt to catch it and let it bounce off my chin. Pressing her lips together, she suppresses a smile as she starts a new list.
“How do you feel about PDA?” I ask.
Her brows drop as she stares at the paper and then finally me. “I don’t know.”
I frown. “You don’t know if you’re okay with it or you don’t know what you’re comfortable with?”
She chews on the end of the pen. Swallowing thickly, she admits, “Both of those.” Seeing my confused look, she continues, “I’ve never really uh—had anything serious before so I’m not sure exactly what’s going to be expected of me.”
I resist the urge to reach over and comfort her.
It’s instinct for me so it’s hard to fight, especially with the look on her face right now.
She’s embarrassed . “You’re not expected to do anything.
We can let it be natural and play it all by ear if that’s what will make you comfortable. We can even use a safe word.”
“A safe word?” she questions, but I can tell she’s keen on the idea, which gives me confidence.
I nod. “Whenever one of us says the safe word, the other person stops whatever they’re doing immediately. No questions asked.”
“I like that. What should it be?”
For a week, I had been trying to place the new scent in my apartment when I entered. Only a day ago had I realized the smell was coming from a dish on the stove. “Cinnamon,” I state, and she looks at me sheepishly.
“My mom used to do it all the time when I was a child. It reminds me of her…and home. I can stop if you don’t like it.” Her face scrunches in unneeded apology.
I’d never dream of taking such a thing away from her. Even if I fucking hate cinnamon. “I like it,” I lie. “It’s nice.”
Her spirits lift a little, a small smile curving her mouth.
Clicking her pen a few times, she says, “I think I’d like to hold hands.
” She begins to write it down. “And forehead kisses are also acceptable. I like to feel cherished.” Lifting her head, she gives me a defiant look.
“Is this admissible to you or will it be a challenge?”
I’m barely able to contain my smile. “I’m not opposed to those things. How about kissing?”
Her gaze drops to my mouth, her cheeks flushing. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” As she continues to write, her tongue pokes out of her mouth in concentration. I bite my tongue. Now that I know flirting with her when we’re alone isn’t allowed, it only makes me want to do it more.
“While we’re on the topic,” she starts, “there will be no sexy time.”
I chuckle, crossing my arms over my chest. “Define sexy time .”
She glances at me sideways. “Sex is off the table.” There’s a pause as if she’s waiting for me to oppose this .
Slightly annoyed, I say tightly, “Write it down, Andrea.” Her hands are shaky as she does and I’m not sure what that means so I decide to change the subject. “If it’s an option, I would like to request that you don’t call me Honey Bunny .”
She winces, continuing to write. “Sorry about that. I’m not a fan of pet names. I panicked and it just slipped out.”
“So, no pet names,” I state with agreement.
“Do you want to add anything?”
Now it’s her who surprises me. “Me?”
Huffing out a laugh, she nods. “Your boundaries matter too, Julian.” I blink a few times, my chest tightening.
Her smile slowly fades at whatever she sees on my face.
“We can always figure them out as we go, but I do want you to know that whatever they are, they’re safe with me.
” Already in silent understanding, she quickly moves on as she stares at the paper.
“I think this is a good foundation. Now we just need to agree on a stopping date.” She chews her bottom lip.
“We’ll stop once the beast that is my family has been tamed and your foundation is off the ground. Deal?”
I dip my chin, resisting the urge to roll the tension out of my neck. “Deal.”
She scribbles something quickly before passing the clipboard and pen to me. My eyes trail over the list and land on the last rule she didn’t say out loud. I probably stare at it longer than I should before signing my name next to hers.