14. Drew
FOURTEEN
DREW
After we return to the hotel from dinner with Jules’s shopping in hand, she ducks into the bathroom to change.
I change into my lounge pants and a t-shirt while she’s inside.
I usually sleep shirtless but sacrifices have to be made for the woman who generously offered to let me stay in her room so I don’t have to find another hotel in a city of hotels.
I’m still not sure what made her suggest we share a room. The true test of that is going to be right now, when we--two people who barely get along--will be sleeping in the same bed.
I hear water running in the bathroom and I pace the suite, restless energy coursing through me. If I was in Boston, I’d go down to the arena and take slap shots until I was too exhausted to think. Here, it’s just me and my sister’s best friend.
That’s a good thing to remember. At the end of the day, Jules is my sister’s best friend. Anything I say or do to hurt her will hurt my sister as well.
The water shuts off and Jules steps out, fresh faced in her pink pajamas which cover everything. It frustrates me to no end that I want to know exactly what it was she packed to sleep in that I can’t see.
Jules comes to a halt next to the bed, her throat convulsing as she swallows. “How are we going to do this?”
“You take one side and I take the other.”
Jules chews on her lip thoughtfully, eyeing the bed. “I should have probably mentioned before that I’m a really light sleeper. Even a small noise or movement and I’ll be wide awake.”
“Then we’ll be wide awake together,” I say.
I’ve always been a terrible sleeper and despite having done it for years, sleeping in hotel rooms is the hardest.
Jules grabs the cover on her side and I do it on mine, pulling it down. There’s a domesticity to the action which is unexpected to share with her.
She gets into bed first, pulling the covers up to her chest with a knuckle whitening grip.
“Can I turn off the lights?” I ask.
Her wide eyes swing to me and she gives a jerky nod. I leave the bathroom light on because Jules is already panicked enough without me plunging the room into darkness.
I walk around to my side of the bed and only hesitate a moment before getting in. There’s no going back now. There’s space for another person to fit in between us, but there’s no escaping the fact that Jules and I are in the same bed.
Both of us wide awake, staring up at the ceiling, only the loud sounds of Manhattan to keep us company. The silence between us is loud and impenetrable.
“Do you want to watch something?” I ask.
“Yes!” She cannot sound more nervous or excited at the prospect of having something to fill the silence between us.
I grab the remote from the side table and turn on the TV. I switch through the channels until I land in the perfect thing to distract her, My Cousin Vinny.
“Now this is my idea of a vacation,” Jules says, sitting up slightly and smiling at the TV.
If there’s one thing that’s sure to relax Jules, it’s reciting Marissa Tomei’s dialogues in a perfect Jersey accent. And as I listen to her voice beside me, I find myself soothed in a way that’s unfamiliar.
Before I know it, my eyes are drooping shut. When I open them again, the TV is off, and Jules is soundly asleep beside me, the only part of her visible under the covers are her blonde hair at the top and her feet peeking out at the bottom.
I find it strangely…adorable. Which is my reminder to stay away from this woman before she drives me completely mad.
I slide out of bed slowly and pad across the room. I want to go for a run to clear my head but any movement may wake her up and I don’t want to be an asshole who cares more about his exercise than her sleep.
I use the bathroom, splash cold water on my face as quietly as possible and find Jules still soundly asleep when I walk back out. At this point, the only thing that’s going to help me burn off this restless energy is push-ups so I drop to the floor.
I’m at a hundred and eighty when Jules’s feet flex and her legs shift under the covers. She makes a low moan which has my stomach tightening and I exhale harshly, trying to focus on pushing my body rather than the woman on the bed.
“What are you doing?”
My arms shake and my balls tighten at the sound of her voice, still throaty from sleep. I tell myself it’s only because I haven’t had sex in a long time that my body is reacting this way to waking up next to a woman. It has nothing to do with Jules.
“Exercising,” I say.
“Why?”
“Because exercise is good for health and releases endorphins which make you happy,” I say.
I glance at her and find her leaning over the bed, looking at me through half lidded eyes that are full of sleep.
“You know what else makes you happy? Cake.”
I’m not opposed to a good cake. In fact, I frequently indulge in the baked goods my grandmothers make despite my trainers advice, and I’m only able to do that because I exercise.
Suddenly, the one thing flashing through my mind is Jules eating the pineapple cake at the last family dinner and the way she’d licked the icing off the fork.
“What time do we need to leave?” I ask, changing the subject. My voice sounds strained. All my energy is going into keeping my thoughts clean rather than exercising.
“The ceremony starts at one, so we should get there by twelve-thirty,” Jules says.
The sheets rustle as she gets out of bed and I glance up just in time to see her stretching. Her top rides up, revealing a sliver of golden skin just above the waist band of her pajamas. I look away quickly, down at the carpet under me.
What the fuck is happening to me? Why am I suddenly looking at Jules like she’s a woman and not like she’s Jules? She’s not a viable option for dating.
I hear her pad softly to the bathroom and the door sliding shut. A minute later, the door opens and she walks out while brushing her teeth. I feel her gaze on me, though she doesn’t say anything.
“You do this everyday?” Her voice is garbled around the toothbrush.
“Yep.”
“Willingly?”
“Yep.”
This is the way. I should give short answers to her questions and then she’ll get tired and bored. She’ll ignore me and I can go back to living my peaceful life the way it was before I discovered that Jules is a woman with the most perfect set of tits I’ve ever laid eyes on.
My arms give out and I fall onto the floor, my breath whooshing out of me. I look over my shoulder when Jules chuckles softly. “You do that everyday, too?”
“The carpet is throwing off my balance,” I say defensively.
What the fuck does that even mean?
“Uh-huh. Sure. If you say so.” Jules giggles and disappears back into the bathroom.
The only possible reason my thoughts are turning against me is that I haven’t been around women in a long time, other than women I’m related to or work with. Jules and I never spent time together outside of when we’re at family dinner or with Lavinia.
In short, and as Ford constantly reminds me, I need to get laid. I’ll forget all about Jules once there’s another woman in my life who’s far more suitable.