Page 12 of The Downside of Love
Sitting tall, I prop my legs up and drape my arms over my knees, coffee in hand. “Does that mean we’re going to have naked sleepovers?” When I say the words, they don’t come out right. I wince and try to recover. “I mean, you sleep in your room, I sleep here, we’re naked but not touching.”
Smooth.
I need more fucking coffee.
She pours a cup of coffee from the kitchen and says, “Naked but not touching. Never heard that offer before.”
“It’s what all the hipsters are doing. Orgasms by staring at each other.”
Smiling as she walks toward me, cup halfway to her mouth, she says, “I don’t want to witness that. Some people’s O-faces are horrendous.”
“Have some real woof-bags while banging?” I ask, chuckling to myself, thinking back to some memorable O-faces I’ve seen in the past.
She shakes her head and sits on the bed. “Yeah . . . unfortunately.”
I’m about to ask her who—maybe I would know them—when the door opens up a crack and Rory sticks her head through, looking innocent and concerned.
Whispering, she asks, “Is everyone awake?”
“Yup,” Ryan calls out, moving away from me and toward the door.
Rory walks into the apartment freshly showered and looking like a goddamn angel floating across the room in her white T-shirt and simple jeans. She’s not overtly sexy like Ryan is, because she has a more girl-next-door charm and a smile that would make any man weak in the knees, myself included. Is there a time in the day when she doesn’t look so gorgeous?
When she takes me in, her eyes quickly flash over my bare torso, eating me up for a beat too long. I fucking love it. Her gaze warms me to my core and shamelessly, I lean back on the bed giving her a better view, coffee still in hand. Stare all you want, Rory. Get an eyeful.
“Good morning, Stryder.” She takes a seat across from me, placing her purse on her lap and looking shy but also concerned.
“What’s up, Rory?” I tip my coffee cup in her direction then take a sip.
“How are you feeling?”
I shrug. “Fine. What about you?”
It’s obvious I’m trying to act like nothing happened, like I wasn’t embarrassingly drunk off my ass last night or like these two girls I’ve spent no more than a few outings with didn’t have to rescue me. I think anyone else would take the same approach.
“Fine?” Her brow creases, calling me out on my bullshit with a little scrunch of her nose. “You were really drunk last night, Stryder.”
Yup, and right about now, I’m starting to really feel the effects of it.
Head pounding.
Stomach rolling.
A light sweat breaking out on my skin.
The truth is, I’m not doing fine at all, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try to act like everything is fan-fucking-tastic in my life.
“I had a few drinks. Nothing to worry about.”
Ryan steps up, pushing her hair out of her face as she sits next to Rory. “You also had ‘a few drinks’ last weekend when we were at that party. I had to practically carry you into my apartment.”
“That was me making sure you got your workout in for the day.” I plaster a huge smile on my face but neither of them accepts it. Given their contemplative expressions, I know they can see right through me.
Exchanging glances, they telepathically tell each other something only to turn back to me, a warning in their eyes. Here we go . . .
“Stryder, I’m worried. It seems like you’re drinking a lot. Your brother mentioned it when we were getting you in the car last night,” Rory says.
Sipping my coffee, I keep my face expressionless. “Nothing you two need to worry about.” I set my coffee on the side table and stand from the bed, thankful my jeans from last night are still on. Stretching my arms above my head, brain pounding, I say, “I should get going. My mom is probably wondering where I took her car and why I left her with mine.” I look down the hallway and gesture with my thumb. “Bathroom down the hall?”
