Page 34 of Wrecked
I shrug. “I don't know. Yeah, maybe.”
“Just because I'm a nurse doesn't mean I'm a goodie-two-shoes. Just four years ago, I tried mushrooms.”
I can't help the twitch of my lip as a smirk tries to form on my face. She's cute. And sweet. And even though she's far from the bad that I am, I appreciate her trying to make me feel better and lighten the situation, even if I don't deserve it.
“So that's how you earn a living?” she asks. “Do you race every day?”
“Not every day. It's kind of all over the place.”
She nods. “How long have you been doing it?”
There's nothing but curiosity in her voice, and the ease with which she speaks has me feeling more comfortable about telling her, even if I'm not particularly proud of it. “About four years now.”
“Oh wow, that's a long time. You must be pretty decent at it.”
Just as she says it, her eyes flick around my apartment real quick. I'm not sure if she even means to do it, but I bet she's wondering how good I actually am if I'm living in this shit-hole of an apartment. But call it ego or a sense of male pride, but something has me wanting her to know that Iamgood at it.
“I went months straight without losing a single race,” I tell her.
“Oh, that's so awesome,” she says enthusiastically, which of course, strokes my ego. “I'd love to watch you race sometime.”
Whatever sense of pride I was feeling a moment ago is swiftly pushed to the side when I imagine her being at one of the races. Her kind and sweet nature being tarnished by the surrounding raucous crowd. Drunk and high men and women harassing her because she's fucking gorgeous, and they think she's down to party or fuck.
Her getting swallowed up in a sea of people with low morals.
No.
I don't want that.
“I don't think that's a good idea.”
Her face drops immediately. “Why not?”
Instead of answering her right away, I get to my feet and head into the kitchen, opening and pouring some of the drink I got for us today. “Because I don't,” I reply when I'm on my way back to her.
She lets out an annoyed huff which I find more cute than threatening, like a puppy barking.
When I hand over the glass, she eyes it curiously. “What's this?”
Sitting down again, I sweep my gaze over to her. “I got the same bottle of Prosecco I saw you with that first night. I figured you must like it, and as I said, I wanted to say thanks for all of your help.”
Her eyes soften, forgetting all about the annoyance she felt a moment ago. “That's really sweet of you. Thank you.” We both take a sip of our drinks, and then I place my glass on the table before leaning back into the couch once again. She swallows some more down, and then the side of her mouth tilts. “Well, there is something else I know about you without you telling me.”
“Oh yeah? What's that?” I ask.
“You like to snuggle.”
I can't help the confused chuckle I let out, wondering if I heard that correctly. “What?”
She shrugs. “You like to snuggle.”
“Yeah, that's what I thought you said. But what are you talking about?”
Placing her plate and glass on the table, she then angles her body so that she's facing me better and pulls one leg up onto the couch. “The night I brought you back here after I got you into your bed properly, I was trying to pull the blanket over you, but you grabbed me instead and pulled me down to lay as the little spoon.” A small smile plays on her lips as she sits there waiting for my response.
“Huh,” I say, staring back at her. “Usually, I don't cuddle at all.” In fact, after I've had anyone in my bed, I roll practically to the edge and face away from them.
Another shrug. “Well, this time, you did. I had to sneak out of your embrace.” This time her eyes are dancing, lit up with joy, thinking that it's quite funny.
