Page 121 of Demo
Three months ago …
LYZBETH
Iwoketothesound of a thud and a “shit,” and as I glanced up I saw Knox standing by the dresser with a towel around his waist, water droplets on his skin and hair. “Sorry,” he said, retrieving the bottle of cologne he dropped on the floor. “I wanted to let you sleep.”
“S’OK,” I said groggily. I was still naked, so I kept the blankets pulled up around me. While the night prior—when we came back from our night out with Jenny and Jake, and Knox cried in my arms—seemed to rip the doors back open on our intimacy, I still felt insecure being naked in the light of day.
And it was definitely light out.
“What time is it?” I asked as I sat up, noticing Kennedy still sleeping on the carpet.
“Almost nine,” Knox replied as he dropped the towel and pulled his boxers on.
“Really?” That was late for us.
“Really.” He buttoned a pair of jeans and strolled over to me. He plopped down on the bed and smoothed a hand over what I’m sure was my unruly hair. “Sorry about last night. I guess the floodgates finally broke.”
“Knox, this is gonna sound odd, but I’m glad they finally did.”
He chuckled, kissed my forehead, and said, “I understand.” Then he stood. “I’m starved. Let’s get breakfast. Who knew being emotionally vulnerable could leave you famished?”
I smiled the first genuine smile in months. This was so much closer to the Knox I knew. “Just gimme five minutes to shower?”
“Nah,” he said, tossing one of his T-shirts at me. “I like when you smell like me. Put that on and be ready in two minutes or I’m leaving without you.” Then he headed into the living room.
I smiled like a sixteen-year-old cheerleader who just woke up in the quarterback’s bed, kicking the sheets off me and bounding out of bed. I felt lighter. Happy. Hopeful.
“You’ve got thirty seconds before all the pancakes they make at the diner are mine,” I heard Knox yell from the living room. I pulled on a pair of yoga pants, put on my bra and dragged his shirt over my head. I was smoothing my hair back into a hair tie as I ran out of the bedroom.
“Don’t even joke about that, Knox Angus Mitchell!” I shot at him as I wiggled a foot into a shoe. From the corner of my eye, I saw him still, then he lunged at me. I wasn’t quick enough to avoid his tackle, which I knew was coming. I knew he hated me using his middle name.
His arms were around me, lifting me, tickling me as I squealed like a schoolgirl. “No one calls me that!” he shouted as he continued his assault.
“OK, OK! Truce!” I begged him to stop, and he slid me down the front of his body. Both of us breathless.
“Are you going to behave?” he asked, his arms still around my waist.
I nodded.
“No, babe, I need to hear you say it, or else—” and his tickling started again. I jumped.
“Yes! Yes I’ll behave! Promise.”
“You ready to go?” he pushed.
I nodded. “I just need my hoodie.”
He snagged mine off a peg hanging from beside the door. “And you’re going to promise to never use my wretched middle name ever again?”
“Scouts honor!” I said, holding up two fingers.
Knox laughed. “I’m pretty sure that’s the peace sign, but I’ll take it.” Then he kissed my lips quickly, released me, and helped me into my hoodie. He grabbed me by the hand, swiped his keys off the island with the other, and we were headed out the door.
With each step we descended, I felt like we were taking a step back to “us.”
I heard the truck beep as we approached, indicating he unlocked the doors, and he lightly swatted my ass as we separated to get in. “Hurry up, woman! I’m hungry!”
“Damn!” I rubbed my rump in mock pain. “You’re hangry, is what you are.”
