Page 62 of The Ring
We were so crazy in love that we didn’t even question how hygienic it was to get a tattoo at a place right on the side of the road, where they didn’t even ask for ID.
After that, of course, we didn’t end up joining The Heptad Society at the pub. We went straight to the hotel to continue making the night even more memorable.
Chapter 34
Cornelia
Iwake up to find TJ in my bed, his left arm draped around my shoulder while I lie against his chest, and Beardy made his way onto my other side like he used to. I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t feel wonderful or that I didn’t just have the best night’s sleep I’ve had in months. This is far better than any melatonin gummy. Still, we shouldn’t be doing this. Although yesterday’s me didn’t think it was a bad idea, at least we didn’t sleep together—well, we did, but I mean sex.
I try to slip out of his embrace without waking him, but I fail miserably. As I move, his eyes flutter open.
“Good morning,” I tell him, switching on the lamp on my bedside table, trying to sound casual. I’m not entirely sure it’s still morning. More likely, it has crept into the afternoon by now.
He stretches lazily, a faint, sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “Good morning.”
He slowly pulls back the covers that have been draped over him, displaying all his muscles. He’s always been athletic, but I’ve noticed he’s been getting more muscular, and now I canappreciate it in all its glory. Every curve and line of his body looks sculpted in marble.
Why did I have to fall for someone with a six-pack? It’d be so much easier if he didn’t have one.
My face begins to flush. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I announce hastily, slipping out of bed and grabbing my phone from the bedside table.
I run towards the bathroom, hoping he doesn’t notice the growing redness in my cheeks. On the way, I nearly trip over one of my slippers but recover quickly. Once inside, I shut the door firmly behind me, leaning against it for a moment to steady myself.
What the hell was that? It felt like I’d suddenly turned fifteen all over again, and not in a good way.
All this awkwardness could have been avoided if I’d told him to stay in the blue guest room, rather than pretending I didn’t know which rooms were taken. Of course I knew. I needed to, if only to avoid my uncle. My grandmother is staying in my mother’s old room, since it’s the third largest, after Anthony’s and mine. My aunt is in the guest room on this floor, and my uncle is in the yellow guest room on the third floor.
I finish my morning routine, and by the time I emerge from the bathroom, I feel more composed.
“The bathroom is all yours if you need to use it,” I say to TJ, who is still lounging in my bed.
“Thank you,” TJ replies, getting out of bed.
He passes by me, and our hands brush briefly. That quick touch feels so exhilarating. Fuck, why does he still make me feel like this? Why couldn’t he make me feel sick to my stomach instead?
I head to my closet and begin getting dressed. I don’t have much planned for today, but I do need to run a few errands. I need to pick up some suits I left at the tailor’s, as next week I’llbe joining Anthony at Monroe-Nodrick Pharmaceutical again. I’ve been postponing it for a while, but it’s something inevitable. I also have to collect some jewellery I left for cleaning at Jessica McCormack’s store in Mayfair.
I slip into a black turtleneck from Entire Studios with an asymmetric hem, pair it with Logan Wide-Leg Jeans from Rag & Bone, and finish the look with black Tabi flats.
I step out of my closet and head towards my jewellery box as I hear the sound of water running from the shower. I remove the pieces I slept in—except for the button-back ring from Jessica McCormack—and begin choosing my jewellery for the day.
I put on a Serpenti Tubogas watch in stainless steel with a white face over my top, pairing it with the Mika Pinky Ring in white gold from Jewels Aficionado, featuring a blue sapphire on my left hand and a pair of simple Tiffany diamond studs.
Then I move to my vanity, and when I finish applying my makeup, the sound of the water stops, and TJ emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel slung low around his waist.
“Good shower?” I ask, glancing at him longer than I probably should.
“Yes, it helped with the hangover,” he replies, passing behind me and opening the second drawer of my dresser.
He must have drunk more than I did because I feel fine.
He pulls out a pair of socks, boxers, black jeans, and a black hoodie.
“Are you in a rush to get somewhere?” TJ asks, motioning to my clothes as he opens his drawer.
“Not particularly, but I have a few things I need to do.”
“Like?”
