“No shit it’s Abby.” Miles rolls his eyes. “I could hear him moaning her fucking name last night.” He gives me an appraising look and adjusts the duffle bag draped across his shoulder. “Good for you, man.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index fingers, and calmly exhale. “Close the door and get out.”
Miles ushers Cubby out into the hall, closing the door behind him. “You might want to check the lock next time, bro!” he yells from the other side of the door, giving the solid wood a few raps with his knuckle.
I sit on the edge of the bed, sheet wrapped around my waist, and fall back onto the bed, reaching behind me to tap the maniacally giggly lump in the center of my bed.
“You think that was funny?”
“No!” Her head pops out from under my white sheets, dark hair falling around her bare shoulders in sheets. “Th-this is hysterical l-laughter. I can’t h-help it. This only happens when I’m stressed out or terribly n-nervous.”
“Are you going to be okay? Do you… need anything?”
“No, I’ll be fine. It could have been worse, I guess.” Abby hiccups. “At least I didn’t start crying.”
“Uh, yeah. I’m going to pummel their faces in. But don’t worry, I’ll make it look like an accident.”
She blinks at me and leans forward, placing a kiss upside down on my Adam’s apple. “You should really go and… throw that thing out.”
“Oh shit!” I jump up and race naked to the bathroom.
I toss the condom in the garbage and rinse my hands, bracing both hands on the counter as I stare in the mirror at my reflection and take an inventory of myself that I haven’t done in a long time. Dark eyes that aren’t scowling, eyebrows relaxed, mouth in an upturned line for the first time in fucking forever.
For once, I feel carefree and young.
I run the sink again and splash cold water on my face, toweling off my neck and chest before wrapping a terrycloth bath towel around my narrow hips.
For the hell of it, I splash some cologne on my neck before walking back into my bedroom, and call me crazy, but I was fully expecting and hoping to see Abby still sprawled out in the center of my big bed.
Instead, she’s standing in my gray cotton tee shirt, next to my dresser, hand extended in front of her, two delicate fingers grasping her gold ring.
Oh shit. Oh fucking shit.
Her ring.
“What are you doing with this?” She holds it out high, eyebrows curved in a patronizing arch, bare foot tapping on my cold, hardwood floor. “Care to explain?” Her lips are pursed tight, and her other hand is on her hip.
“I…”
She stares at me impassively, waiting.
My palms go out in front of me, beseeching. “Abby, let me explain.”
Still nothing.
“I meant to give it back.”
“When, Caleb?” Tears form in the corner of her eyes, and she swipes them away angrily. “When you saw me pawing the ground on my hands and knees? Or when I told you about it that day you walked me home. Answer me.”
Shit. Sweet Abby is kind of scary.
And if she weren’t gearing up to chew my ass out, I’d applaud her for sticking up for herself.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Clearly not.” She stalks over to the chair where she stacked her clothes and begins angrily pulling on her jeans, one leg at a time, and muttering under her breath. She flops down, pulling on her shoes and zipping them both up the side. “Stupid little virgin. Way to fall for the big, angry, lying jockstrap.”
My hands shake as I hold them out, imploring. I am way out of my league with this one. “Have I ever been anything but honest with you?”
She stands up and shoves the ring right in my face. “Gee, I guess not!”
“Be fair. Everything I’ve ever said has been honest.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh brother. Like that’s real hard—you scarcely ever talk, Caleb!”
“Come on, stop. Please, I tried. Don’t be pissed at me.” I shake my head and run both hands through my hair, frustrated. I don’t miss Abby’s eyes flicker to the waistband of my loosening towel with a guilty spark, and she gulps before jerking away.
“How do I know I can trust you with my heart if I can’t trust you with my possessions? Or my privacy? Is this all just a big joke to you?”
A joke? Okay, now I’m getting pissed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? It’s a goddamn ring, for Christ’s sake. It’s not like I fucking cheated on you. Chill the fuck out.”
Okay, so that particular choice of words might have been a mistake, because her face gets so red that her bright blue eyes look aquamarine. They’re sexy and erotic and unnerving and all kinds of fucked up—especially when narrowed into slits and fixated on me.