Page 50 of Down Shift (Driven 8)
“You sure?” He reaches a hand out and runs the back of it down my cheek. “You were moaning and moving—then you called out my name for help. It scared the shit out of me. Must have been a bad nightmare.”
It takes a second to find my voice. The right words to say get lost in the embarrassment and the postclimax fog of endorphins. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” I run a hand through my hair, pull the covers a little tighter around me. “I—I—uh, don’t even remember what it was about. But thank you. I appreciate you checking on me.”
“Was this because of me?” he asks, concern in his tone. The blood drains from my face momentarily as I wonder if he’s caught on to what was really happening. “Was it because of the things I said to you tonight that stirred up bad memories—”
“No.” I’m quick to cut him off, feeling like an ass that he’s sitting here worried his honesty caused me to have a nightmare when in fact it was quite the opposite. But it’s not like I can tell him that. “I watched a scary movie the other night. I’m sure it had to do with that.”
Smooth, Getty. Real smooth.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I will be. Thanks. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
Please go back to bed and put me out of my misery.
“I’ll let you get back to sleep, then,” he says as he stands from the bed, a handsome shadow in the night. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Good night, Zander.”
“Good night, Getty.”
We can’t see each other’s eyes, but we are sure as hell holding each other’s gaze through the darkness, because I can feel it. After a moment of suspended silence, he nods his head and walks to the doorway as emotions war within me over wanting him to go and asking him to stay.
“I’m going to leave your door open, just in case you need me,” he says before his shadow leaves the doorway toward his room.
I hold back the immediate urge to go shut it should my nocturnal need arise again to have fake sex with him.
Sinking deeper into the mattress, I scrub my hands over my face and can feel the smile on my lips. I go back over the dream in my mind, because unlike what I told him, I remember every single part of it. Each kiss. Every touch. The sound of his voice thick with desire.
With a deep breath, I shake my head and feel like such a fool. How did I not know it was a dream? My lack of modesty and constant insecurity over my ability to orgasm should have been a dead giveaway. Even asleep, I should have caught that.
How am I going to face him in the morning? How am I going to look him in the eye and ask him if he wants a cup of coffee with his roommate who was getting off while fantasizing about him?
I close my eyes but can’t sleep. There’s no way in hell with the buzz of my orgasm still echoing through both my head and body.
Because if I thought a little piece of my heart was lost to Zander for his kindness, then a huge part of my awakening libido just pledged allegiance to him too.
Chapter 14
ZANDER
There’s a bite to the air. A chill that burns in my lungs and stings my cheeks. It may be the start of the summer season, but shit, mornings are cold here. Hopefully I’ll be heading back home to Los Angeles before I get a chance to acclimate.
And I hate that my feet falter at the idea. Hate that the next fucking thought in my head is, What is Getty going to do when I leave?
This isn’t a thing.
She isn’t supposed to become a thing.
But fuck me, she is.
Then of course there’s the voice mail from Rylee today, my adoptive mom. The one who saved me from my silence and deafening fear after my mother died and my dad came back to finish me off. The one who had to have known the truth all along from day one. I don’t even have to replay the message because I can still hear it plain as day.
Zander. It’s me. Her laugh. Nerves I’m not used to hearing in it vibrate through the connection. Of course it’s me—who else would it be, right? I just wanted to hear your voice, let you know I was thinking about you. A lot. I miss you. Of course I’m worried about you and want to call and text you to make sure you’re okay, but I also know you’ll call when you’re ready. Oh . . . and thank you for texting Scooter and then Ace back. He’s taking this hard . . . all of it . . . so thank you for responding and letting him—us—know you’re okay. I’m sorry I’m rambling, but there’s so much I want to say to you . . . so much I want to ask, but I know you’ll come home once you figure whatever it is you need to work through. Silence for a few seconds. A shaky sigh. Her not wanting to let go just yet. He won’t admit it, but Colton misses you too. He’s moody and a bear to be around and won’t talk about what happened that day between the two of you. . . . Another sigh. A few words started and then stopped. Her concern is palpable in the silence and I know she’s struggling to not give me her two cents on the matter. To keep the disappointment out of her voice and not rail into me that I’m the one who needs to man up and apologize for all of this. It doesn’t matter. I hope you find whatever you’re hoping to find while you’re gone. And I can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re not telling us. All we want . . . all we’ve ever wanted is the best for you Zander. I love you.
I’ve listened to the message several times this morning. It’s become a type of fuel to feed my guilt over what I did, how I acted, and reinforcement that I need to really get my shit together. Open the box, face the facts. Deal. Cope. Yell. Rage.
Move on. Live life with a new norm I can’t shove away but can start to put behind me.
