7. Laundry
7
Laundry
WINTER
Silence. It’s all I can hear. Lying in bed with my eyes open, I contemplate how the average human will spend the majority of his life sleeping. Funny that, right now, sleep is avoiding me like some deadly disease. Ha. Just as every boy I flirted with during my freshman year of high school.
Tossing and turning, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. It’s 3:00 a.m. I can’t stop thinking about Haze alone in the basement. My mom wasn’t kidding about us sleeping apart. We even had a curfew. She sent Haze to “bed”—the crappy pull-out couch in the corner of our laundry room—at 10:00.
After my parents came back from the restaurant, we couldn’t dream of getting one moment alone—luckily for me. I’m sure if we had, Haze would’ve asked me about my brother’s comment, and I really didn’t want to discuss this in a house full of people.
What happened between me and Caleb is in the past. We agreed to forget about it when he pulled me aside at the pub, but I don’t plan on hanging out with him any more than I have to. We may be on good—well , better —terms now, but it doesn’t make his presence any less uncomfortable for me. I feel guilty every second that I’m around him, and I can’t stand it. It doesn’t exactly help that there’s a good chance I’ll have to see him again since he’s still very close friends with Allie, and I could never bring myself to tell her about that night.
Unplugging my phone, I let my fingers sail the empty space where Haze should be. I’ve gotten so used to the warmth of his body next to mine, to his arms around my waist, even to the sound of his breathing, that trying to sleep without him feels… unnatural. I’m on a goddamn Haze Adams withdrawal.
I consider texting him for five minutes, talk myself out of it for four, and eventually give in.
Winter: Can’t sleep without you. Look what you did to me, Adams.
A few minutes go by. Radio silence. He must be sleeping. I’m about to put my phone down when three dots pop up on my screen .
Haze: I haven’t done anything to you.
Haze: Yet.
My lips pull into a smile .
Winter: Idiot. Did I wake you?
Haze: Nah. I can’t sleep. Your basement’s full of spiders.
I literally have to laugh into my pillow as memories of the day he took me to the abandoned high school rooftop and confessed his fear of spiders fuel my laughter.
Winter: Aw. Do you want me to come and protect you, princess?
The dots pop up again.
Haze: I mean, I’m definitely okay with the first part of your sentence.
I frown in confusion and reread my text. Do you want me to co…
Oh.
Winter: Jerk.
Haze: Prude.
Winter: Perv.
Haze: Thanks.
Winter: No, but seriously, I can’t sleep.
Haze: Too busy picturing me naked?
Ironically, that’s my brain’s cue. Images intoxicate every inch of available space in my mind. I see his half-naked body spread out across the uncomfortable couch in the barely lit basement, his bulging muscles as he stretches and pushes the blanket off his… Okay, chill.
Winter: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Winter: Maybe.
Haze: Come downstairs and I’ll show you more than a picture.
Feeling all hot and bothered, I stop answering to think of a good reply. The dots show up almost right away.
Haze: ???
Enjoying his desperation, I wait a bit more.
Haze: You still there?
Winter: Still here.
Haze: Are you coming down??
Winter: Not sure.
Haze: I see what you’re doing. I could just take care of myself and do without the teasing, you know ;)
I laugh at his text and consider my next move for a few seconds. Finally, I peel my oversized T-shirt up and open my phone’s camera. I’m only wearing panties since I tossed my bra—I could never sleep with a bra on; I will not submit myself to such torture. I make sure the camera doesn’t catch my face, because I may trust Haze with all of my being, which is the only reason I’m willing to do this, but who knows where this could end up in a worst-case scenario. The room is dark, but light enough that you can discern the curves of my bare body as I cover my nipples with my forearm and snap a pic. My fingers are shaking, both with excitement and nerves when I type a reply and attach the picture.
Winter: I can take care of myself, too.
Winter Kingston sent a picture.
It doesn’t even take a second.
Haze: Get your cute little ass downstairs NOW.
A chuckle leaves my lips. Giddy with anticipation, I tug my shirt back into place and slide a pair of white shorts up my legs. Sneaking out into the hall and tiptoeing down the stairs like a criminal, I hold my breath as I pass my parents’ room. I see the basement door in the distance.
Three more steps.
Two steps.
One.
I lay a shaky hand on the handle. The door opens with a loud creak, and I wince, the possibility of getting caught just as thrilling as it is terrifying. I wait and wait for something to happen. For someone to walk in and bust me. I wait for a moment that never comes.
The basement is engulfed in darkness. I can’t see anything past the first step, and the thought of sleeping down there alone sends shivers, and I don’t mean the good kind, down my spine. No wonder Haze can’t sleep.
Come on, Winter. Don’t be a pussy.
I suck in a breath, a rush of adrenaline roaring in me, and close the door as I go down, careful not to be too loud. The old steps screech under me, and I know there’s no way Haze won’t hear me coming. I sigh in relief when my toes meet the ceramic floor, but I don’t have time to fully appreciate that I made it down in one piece. Because I’m immediately pushed up against the brick wall behind me.
My heart lurches forward when a strong body traps me into a corner and large hands cage my hips.
“What took you so fucking long?” a voice rasps in the dark.
His voice.
I don’t reply—too focused on trying to breathe—but he doesn’t seem to want me to, holding me in place like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go. I’m about to speak when I feel his length digging into my stomach. I can’t help but smirk.
“Nice to see my picture had the wanted effect.”
He growls in annoyance. “I should punish you for being such a fucking tease, you know that?” His hands curve behind me and inside my shorts to squeeze my ass cheeks.
Two can play this game, Hazie.
My fingers fall to the hard bulge straining against his underwear, and I palm him through the fabric, causing his breath to hitch.
I lean in and whisper, “Do your worst.”
His reaction is instant. He takes a fistful of my hair and pulls my chin forward. He grazes the corner of my lips with his slowly to tease me, to give me a taste of what’s coming. His mouth latches onto my neck, kissing, licking, biting until my head falls back and I’m losing what’s left of my sanity.
“Haze, please.” I drop the act. Please don’t make me wait any longer. Please kiss me and put me out of my misery.
He stops for a second, like he’s considering whether or not I deserve his mercy.
Then he crashes his lips against mine.
I can feel my whole body drop with relief when our tongues collide. Finally . I kiss him back, the freezing wall behind me clashing with my hot skin. I still can’t see a thing, but I don’t need to. I just need to feel more. Way more. More of him. Of this. Of us.
Wrapping his hands behind my thighs, he picks me up into his arms, and I hook my legs around his waist, letting him carry me to his bed. I gasp in surprise when my butt connects with the coldest of surfaces. Wait. He didn’t take me to the couch. He dropped me on the washing machine. The cold as shit washing machine.
“What are you doing?” I screech, and a deep laugh reaches my ears. He doesn’t reply, tugging at my shorts and pulling them down my legs in one swift move. Then he says it:
“ Laundry .”
His mouth crashes back on mine before another protest can break free. He kisses me hungrily, and I’m so eager for him I don’t even care that I’m freezing my butt off.
“Spread your legs.”
With a thundering heart, I do as I’m told, propping myself on my elbows and lifting my knees up as I brace my feet on top of the machine. Gripping my waist and pulling me forward until my ass hangs off the edge, he reaches for my shirt and grabs the bottom to lift it over my head. The cold air hits my nipples, and shivers flare down my spine. Haze stands back, admiring as much as he can see of me in the dark. I’m sitting there in my panties, legs spread and breasts out, but somehow, I’ve never felt more at ease. My eyes have adapted to the dark, allowing me to see his face: the fire in his gaze, his lip trapped between his teeth. And heaven help me, the look in his eyes makes me want to melt into a puddle at his feet.
His mouth finds its way back to mine, and he flicks my painfully ready nipples with his thumbs, sending jolts of electricity to my stomach. When his hand find my panties and he starts to strokes me, running his fingers up and down without ever really touching me, I lose it.
“Stop teasing me,” I whimper, wriggling around, and he immediately halts his motion, arching an eyebrow like he’s asking me if I know what I’m asking for.
Then he nods.
“Okay.”
I almost cry out when he pushes my underwear to the side and buries two fingers inside of me.
“ Haze !” I bite down on his shoulder. He kisses me to muffle my moans, pumping in and out so fast that I clench around his fingers. I expected this to hurt, for the sudden thrust to feel uncomfortable, but I’ve never been more turned on and it shows. His thumb rubs rough circles in exactly the right place, his way of reminding me that I’m his, and his only. He keeps it up for as long as it takes, never once slowing down until my legs are shaking and he’s got me exactly where he wants me. His reckless pace becomes too much, and my back arches on its own.
“Haze, I think I’m…” My words fail me, but he reads me loud and clear.
“Fuck, yeah.” He picks up the pace and strength of his circles, until my self-control depletes from my body and I come undone on his fingers. He mutes the sound of my unraveling with hot kisses, only pulling away once I stop shaking.
Oh.
My.
God.
“So fucking hot,” he grunts against my mouth. I can’t describe the state of euphoria I’m in, and when he pulls on the waistband of his underwear, tossing them to his feet, I know it’s about to get even better. Curling his arms around my thighs, he pulls my body flush to his and slowly slides his length up and down my center, relentlessly rubbing an already sensitive spot. He’s not done with me. Not even close. I came down from cloud nine, but I’m not so far away from it that I won’t pay it another visit soon if he keeps this up.
He keeps drawing quick and strong circles on my clit, and just when I think I’m about to fall apart again, he stops. No warning, not a word, he just stops. He turns around and walks away. Baffled, my eyes follow his silhouette until I lose him to the darkness. I hear him going through some stuff. What stuff, you ask? I don’t know, but it better be a question of life or death.
After what feels like an eternity, he comes back with a condom, and I smirk. That’s my boy. He knows I never go bareback.
“Sex in a house full of people? I thought you didn’t want to risk it.” I throw the conversation we had earlier in his face.
He stretches the condom down his length and looks me dead in the eyes before lowering himself to my entrance.
“You’re the risk I’ll always take.”
Then he pushes forward and takes me completely.
Holy sh…
The intense sensation takes my breath away. We both groan when he withdraws entirely and fills me again with an even more powerful shove. We’re both too engulfed in the moment to speak, but the connection, this feeling, the way our eyes lock as he holds my legs open and moves inside me—it speaks for itself.
“It feels like it’s been five fucking years,” he groans.
“I know.” I quiver, well aware that we won’t last long.
I’m surprised when he pulls out sooner than I would’ve liked and circles my wrist with his hand to guide me down the washer. My feet hit the ground, and my still-wobbly legs almost give out from under me, but Haze catches me, spinning me around and bending me over the cold steel. He holds my leg up on the machine. My nipples press against the top, and goose bumps creep all over my skin. I mentally laugh at the fact that my mother constantly tells me I should learn to love doing chores, such as laundry.
Well, Mom, I sure like it now.
I bite down on my own hand not to cry out again when he enters me, this time from behind.
“You have no idea how much I wish I could see you better right now,” he says, continuing his fast thrusting and gripping my ass so tightly I’m sure it’ll earn me a souvenir hand print, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. He starts to tremble, his movements frantic. “Shit. Not yet,” I hear him curse. Defeated, he loses the battle. Twisting my hair around his fist, he pumps so fast my eyes roll back. Then he empties into the latex, jerking a few times.
We remain quiet for a while, high on each other and this feeling. Silence fills the dark basement, the only recurring sound our heavy breathing. I can’t believe this just happened. I just had sex on the washing machine I used to hate using, at 3:00 a.m. in my parents’ basement. What is life?
Soon, he pulls out of me, picking my spent body off the machine and into his arms. He carries me to the old couch where we both collapse, sweaty and exhausted. Pressed up against his chest, I nuzzle his neck with my nose and seek the calming sound of his heartbeat.
“I love you so fucking much, Winter,” he says in a whisper, and my heart tightens.
“I love you more.” An enormous smile spreads across my face, and let’s just say that…
In that moment,
I’m pretty damn happy I couldn’t sleep.
Hours. It’s been hours. Never-ending hours of movers knocking on our door to deliver furniture so expensive I could cry, hours of unpacking and arguing with Haze on where to put things, hours of telling Will and Kendrick “Don’t touch that” when they open boxes of my stuff and wanting to bash my head against a wall. Four days ago, I thought finding an apartment would be hard. Now I know it was the easy part.
Today marked our fifth day in Toronto. We got the keys to our apartment two days ago but could only get our furniture shipped today. I was convinced I’d be beyond happy to move out of my mother’s house, but turns out, if moving is stressful, moving on a deadline is a one-way ticket to burnout.
Standing in the middle of my apartment and admiring the now decently filled rooms, I entertain the idea of calling my housewarming party off.
It all sounded great when Allie suggested it a few days ago. But now? All I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep for the next seventeen years.
Things this whole moving fiasco taught me: furnishing an entire apartment on a budget is not easy. Even used, extremely low-quality furniture is expensive, and if it wasn’t for Haze insisting on buying a brand-new bed, I’d probably be sleeping on the floor tonight. To my greatest disappointment, Haze had to do most of the heavy lifting—cough, paying , cough—while I moped around, resenting my broke college-student status. I promised to pay him back my half of the furniture as soon as I got a job, and, in typical Haze behavior, he asked me, “What half?”
“Food’s on its way.” Kendrick enters the room and hangs up the phone. Will comes trailing behind him, empty eyes straying to the floor. He’s somewhere else. Has been since he got here. I still haven’t gotten around to asking him what on earth happened back in Florida. He’s not just moody—that’s full-on heartbreak right there.
“I’m guessing that means it’s too late to cancel?” I throw myself right next to Haze on the couch and pick my phone out of my pocket. Allie sent me a text thirty minutes ago.
Allie: BE THERE SOON. JUST NEED TO GET THE BOOZE. GET READY BISHH!
I heave a chuckle and notice Haze reading over my shoulder.
“Definitely too late to cancel,” he says with a grin.
As soon as I told her I was moving out, Allie insisted that we order our weight in food, drink our worries away, and watch a bunch of horror movies to celebrate me getting my own place. I slap a smile on my face to trick my mind into positive thinking. I’ve read somewhere that smiling, even if it’s forced, convinces your brain of genuine happiness. Fake it ’til you make it.
“What are we watching?” Kendrick asks, joining Haze and me on the couch while Will sits at the kitchen table by himself. Kendrick doesn’t seem to notice how miserable his best friend is, staring at his phone like a sad puppy dog, and it breaks my heart in five. Turning the TV on, Kendrick begins scrolling through Netflix.
There’s a quadruple knock on the door the next second.
“I got it.” I smack a kiss to Haze’s cheek and get up. “Kendrick, get your dirty-ass shoes off the couch or I’ll rip off your balls and make you swallow them,” I say as I pass him.
Kendrick’s eyes grow and he pulls his feet down, quickly kicking his shoes off. Haze scoffs, earning a death stare from my cousin.
“Coming!” I call, reaching for the handle and opening the door with a smil…
There goes my smile.
Crap. Why did she bring him ?
“I’ve got the goods,” Allie squeals, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other. She comes in for a hug that I welcome, but all I can think about is Caleb’s persistent gaze piercing into the side of my head
Al, I love you, but why?
Why wouldn’t she invite him, Winter? She doesn’t know.
I’ve been ignoring his texts since we went out to celebrate my return. It’s one thing to say things are back to normal and another to actually act like it. He says he’s fine and ready to put it all behind us, but part of me doesn’t believe him. I thought keeping my distance was for the best.
But now, he’s here, on my doorstep, staring at me.
Yay, awkward moments!
“Welcome to my crib.” I crack a nervous laugh and step aside. Allie walks in, gaping at the apartment and commenting on everything she sees. I know I can’t ignore him for much longer. He’s right there.
“Hey.” He smiles, but it’s unsure, hesitant. He feels the tension. How could he not?
“Hey, Caleb.” I avoid his gaze, but that doesn’t stop him from yanking me into a hug that I struggle to return. I glance over Caleb’s shoulder, only to see a clenched-jaw Haze glaring at us. Allie is already halfway to the bedrooms by the time I break the hug, leaving me with the guy I thought would never talk to me again.
One thing’s for sure: this is going to be one hell of a night.
Emphasis on hell.