Chapter 22
Daniel
With you?
I froze, trying to understand what she meant. I was sleeping on the couch. That was my plan.
“Why would I sleep in the bed?”
She looked up at me and frowned. “Where else would you sleep?”
I suddenly felt very aware that we were both in her small bedroom.
Down, boy.
“The couch,” I said, nodding toward her living room.
Lydia smiled and shook her head like I was a confused child. “You barely fit on it sitting down, Daniel. You can’t lie down there. I, on the other hand, can sleep very comfortably on the couch.”
“Uh no, this is weird. I wouldn’t agree to it in my apartment, I’m definitely not kicking you out of your own bed. I’ll sleep on the floor if the couch doesn’t work.”
“Oh. It’s a man thing, isn’t it?”
Yes, it’s a man thing, goddammit.
She finished changing the sheets and grabbed one of the pillows and a blanket.
I grabbed her wrist to stop her before she walked out of the room, surprised that she didn’t pull her hand back. “Lydia…”
“Let it go, Daniel. I’m tired and overwhelmed. I’m going to sleep on the couch. We’ll talk in the morning when I can focus.”
She didn’t wait for an answer and walked out to put her pillow and blanket on the couch, and then grabbed a few things from her closet and went into the bathroom. I realized her apartment only had one bathroom and it was in her bedroom.
She came back a few minutes later wearing long, dark purple pajama pants and an oversized gray t-shirt with a faded Mustang print on the front.
I followed her to the living room to insist on switching, but she cut me off before I could say anything. “Feel free to whatever you want in the kitchen. Good night, Daniel.”
She turned off the light and lay down on the couch. I was still standing by the front door where my backpack was, now in the dark and in shock. I mumbled, ‘Good night, Lydia,’ and made a beeline to her room.
Should I close the door? I left it open. I got out of my clothes and stayed in boxers, brushed my teeth, and got into her bed, staring at the ceiling. It didn’t matter that she changed the sheets—it all smelled like her. It felt like her.
I took out my phone and sent her a text.
?? Don’t tell Jake I took your bed
I heard movement on the couch, and then my phone buzzed.
?? Men.
She was joking, right? I realized I had never heard her laugh. She was sarcastic sometimes, she smiled a lot, mostly those polite smiles, but I had never heard her laugh.
This was pathetic. I was falling for a woman who got panic attacks whenever I touched her or stood near her.
Becca would have a field day if she knew what was going through my head.
Jake was already teasing me about it, and he didn’t know the half of it.
I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if it somehow did work out, and I introduced her to the Mason family or took her to events. They’d all eat her alive.
Would they, really?
No. No, they wouldn’t, because she wouldn’t let them. She might panic in a crowded space or if someone touched her, but she wouldn’t flinch if a bitchy socialite tried to insult her or bring her down. She was intelligent and a badass.
She’s fucking hot, is what she is. Everything about her is sexy, and I’m completely and utterly fucked.
I woke up to the sound of running water and saw that the bathroom door was closed. It sounded like she was taking a shower. It was early morning, which meant I slept through the night in her bed.
I groaned, got up, made the bed, and went to the kitchen to see what I had to work with.