Chapter 3 #2
He always knows the perfect approach to pull me out of a spiral. No placating words or tearful heart-to-hearts. Just pure, logical facts. He has experience I don’t, and he wants to help. The short burst of frustration fades from my veins.
I stop folding the clothes and sit down next to him with a huff. “Fine. What do I need to know?”
He shifts up on his elbow to look up at me, his expression so serious, my body tenses. “The most important thing? Know that everything is going to go to shit.”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Every time.”
A laugh bursts out of me.
“Laugh it up, but it’s true,” he continues. “No matter how many classes you teach, things will go wrong. So, plan for it. If you think a discussion in class will take twenty minutes, plan what will happen if it takes twice that time or half that time. Students will always screw it up for you.”
“You make the work sound rewarding,” I scoff.
He drops back onto the bed again, smiling up at me from his lounging position and my stomach starts up a gymnastics routine. “It’s the best job in the world. And the worst.”
“Your insight’s been so helpful,” I say, shaking my head at his proud little grin.
I push off the bed, and we settle into a comfortable silence. I start folding the clothes again, trying to judge if this stack will fit in my last suitcase. Colton eyes them skeptically, too.
“Did you know there’s this cool invention in Rome?” he asks. “You put clothes into it, and it makes them clean.”
I toss a piece of clothing at him. “Fuck off. It’s a lot, but it’s hard to find cute plus-size clothes. I don’t want to need a certain type of outfit and not be able to find something that looks good. I’m covering all activities.”
He lifts the article I threw at him, and I realize too late what it is.
His fingers pinch the straps of a babydoll nightie as it spills down toward the bed.
I can barely make out his face through the sheer lace cups and the blanket of embroidered material that would fall just far enough to give me some modesty, if there were any real coverage to the white fabric.
His lace-obscured eyebrows lift, a smirk playing on his lips. “Planning for every type of activity, are we?”
My eyes go wide. “I didn’t mean to throw that at you.”
I lunge for the fabric, but he’s quicker, shuffling off the other side of the bed and holding it up again.
“Too late. Tell me, Chaos. Are you looking for an Italian fling?”
Now that he mentioned it, an Italian fling is exactly what I need. I’ve barely dated this past year. No one could seem to keep my attention past a date or two, and while I don’t want a relationship, I could use some regular tension relief.
I laugh, scrambling after him. “You’re such a dick. I’m probably not even going to take it.”
He pushes back into the small space between my bed and the wall as I round the bed to reach him. He lifts the negligee in front of his face and raises his voice an octave. He affects an accent, more Scarlet O’Hara begging Rhett to stay than his old mountain man charm.
“Please, Quinn. I’ve always wanted to see the beauty of Italy. Don’t leave me behind.”
“I hate you so much.”
“Not so much. Only a little.”
I shake my head and go to yank it from his hands.
He pulls back, making me stumble into his body.
He places a hand on my hip to steady me, and I gasp, that hazy awareness I’ve felt over the past year suddenly bursting into high definition.
My gaze runs down to where we both still clutch the cloth, before jumping up to his eyes again.
His lips twitch, not a full smile, but his eyes dance at how clearly flustered I was.
Tingles shoot through my limbs, and I let him tow me another inch closer with the fabric. My heart thuds so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. His eyes never leave mine.
“Bring it, Quinn.” His voice is smooth, like that first sip of limoncello that somehow both warms your body and sends a shiver through you.
I gulp, still unable to look away. “I don’t know if I like how it looks.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Need another opinion? Maybe you should try it on.”
I’m out of my depth here. He’s messing with me. He is definitely messing with me.
Right?
A part of me wants to call his bluff. To strut out in nothing but this wisp of lace and see how well he holds up then. I won’t do it, but I’ll enjoy watching that smirk wiped from his face when he thinks I’m going to.
I lift my chin. “Good idea.”
I’m not prepared for his reaction. He flies right past shock, too fast for me to even savor the victory, and straight to a pure hunger that shoots through me.
His eyes slide down from my face, lighting me up every place he looks.
I take an unsteady breath as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth.
His challenging gaze finds mine again. “Get to it, then.”
The loud ringing of my phone breaks the tension, and I scamper away like I’m Superman and moving fast enough will turn back time on the last five minutes. He tosses the negligee onto the bed with the rest of my unfolded clothes.
What the fuck was that?
In the four years of our in-person friendship—of seeing each other practically every day—there was never anything romantic between us.
No drunken kiss, no stress-relieving hookup.
I recognized he was an attractive guy, even back then, but there was nothing substantial enough to act on.
I hadn’t been willing to risk our friendship, and I definitely won’t now.
I’d never survive losing him after everything else I’ve lost.
And Colton doesn’t flirt. Like, ever. Not with the girls he dated in college, and definitely not with me.
I don’t like the reminder that he’s changed.
The physical differences I expected, had seen hints of on our video calls, but there was only so much you could see about the way someone carries themselves when they’re stuck on a couch thousands of miles away from you.
There have been years of small adjustments and growth that I didn’t get to be a part of. It makes my stomach churn.
Or maybe that’s something else. Like that damn smolder. Who the fuck taught him that? Everything in my body tightens.
Would it be hot? Probably.
Would it be a terrible decision? Without a doubt.
I need some space. This year’s been so busy that Colton and I have barely had time together.
Now that the semester’s over, we’ve seen each other every day this week.
I’m on a contact Colton high, like I stayed inside a newly painted room for too long and am feeling the effects of the fumes.
I just need to open a window, and I’ll feel back to normal in no time.
We’ll be together in Rome for three months, but I can keep it together and avoid situations like this. Maybe take our hangouts out into the city instead of one of our apartments.
And. No. More. Lingerie.
“Hey, Inez,” I say as I answer.
“Are you working out?”
“What?”
“You’re breathing heavily.”
I shoot a quick glance at Colton, thankful he can’t hear her side of the conversation. “No, just packing. What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you about housing for the summer. We’ve had a situation.”
“Colton’s here. Should I put you on speakerphone?”
“Yes please. It’ll save me a call later.” I pull the phone away from my ear.
I put it on speakerphone and sit down on the bed next to him. “You’ve got us both.”
“Our regular apartments fell through. Their old pipes burst and flooded our floor. They can’t get it all fixed up until July. We’ve used the same apartments for over a decade, but of course, they give out the year I manage the program,” she says, with diabolical glee in her voice.
“You’re enjoying this,” I say in mock outrage.
“No, I’m not,” she replies, too quickly.
“Yes, you are, you little psycho!”
She whines. “I can’t help it! I love a problem to fix! It’s the best part of the job.”
There’s nothing Inez loves more than moving things around behind the scenes to achieve the perfect solution. As the oldest cousin in her massive Puerto Rican family, she’s grown up managing the people around her and putting out fires.
It’s probably why she ended up in the study abroad office, which is exciting and fun and rife with a million problems a day, ranging from canceled flights to natural disasters. She’s never happier than when everyone else is panicking.
“I fully support the little chaos demon you are,” I say. “So what do we do?”
“I found something else, but we have to change up the configuration. Dr. Keck is going to get her own place since she’s bringing her whole family.
” I try not to think about my own family, how I was the kid lugged around on my dad’s study abroad trips year after year.
“That leaves six of us. I found two apartments in the same building with three rooms each, so we’ll split.
Colton, would you mind staying in our apartment? ”
“Of course. I’d rather be with y’all, anyway,” Colt says, and I savor the little twang he only lets out in private, the real Colton hiding under the professional Dr. Miller exterior.
“Amazing! I’ll call them now and get it sorted out. Thank god. I thought we would end up on the streets for a minute there,” she says before rushing off the phone to call the next person.
I glance around the room as the new details settle in my mind. My eyes land on the white bunch of lace on the top of my clothes and then shoot to Colton. He’s looking back at me, but I can’t make out his thoughts.
Well, there goes my plan for space, shot to shit.
I suck my teeth. “So… roomies.”
He chuckles, surveying my luggage. “You better hope it’s a penthouse if you plan to fit all of this.”
“I’ll stick stuff in your room.”
“No.”
I grab a handful of my clothes and turn back to him. “Two drawers,” I say, and he tsks, shaking his head. “One drawer?”
He walks to the corner of my bed, one finger hooking the negligee. “I probably have space for this.”
I shoot up and snatch it from his hand, tossing it back in my underwear drawer with a scowl. “Fine. I’ll fit everything in my room.”
He heads for the door. “It looks like packing is a long-term project. I’ll pick up dinner while you keep working.”
I tell myself not to watch him walk away.
My brain commands my legs to stay locked, but they still walk to the doorway.
I tell my eyes to mind their own business, but they somehow find his ass in those perfectly tailored slacks.
I finally get control over my traitorous body and yank it back into my room like I’m fighting demonic possession.
Nope, nope, nope.
I’m going to take the next however long it takes to pick up food to reset. When that man steps back through my door, I’ll be composed, friendly, and definitely not horny. And I’ll be packed.
But before I can stop myself, I tiptoe across the room to the dresser. I glance around like I’ll find hidden cameras to catch my guilty actions. I pause to listen for the door to make sure he isn’t circling back for something.
And then I sneak that damn negligee into my suitcase.