“You sure?” he asked, even though he was already standing and grabbing his pillow.
“Yeah.” But I still gulped when I looked at him in just his underwear walking into the bedroom. “Can’t you wear some pants?”
A laugh burst from deep in his chest and seemed to reach across the mattress and stroke between my legs.
“You’re lucky I’m not sleeping naked like I usually do. Why?” he asked, turning to look at me as we stood across from each other on either side of the bed. “You don’t think you’ll be able to resist this?” He swiveled his hips and as much as I wanted to stare at the way they moved, I forced myself to roll my eyes. When he laughed, I took my chance and threw a pillow at him.
I scoffed. “You’re so full of yourself.”
We settled onto our sides of the bed and he whispered a quiet, “Goodnight, Anabelle.”
“Night, Kev.”
It took forever to fall asleep. I kept waiting for him to make a move or roll over, but it seemed his breathing evened out before mine. At least I thought so. Sometime before sleep claimed me, we’d managed to drift closer. His arm made it around my waist and his chest pressed to my back. I said nothing and pretended to be asleep, despite the way my heart hammered against my chest. I figured maybe he was asleep and I didn’t want to wake him.
But the reality was that I didn’t want to take responsibility for how close we were or how much I liked it. I had a chance to pull away and say no, but I didn’t.
And when he buried his nose in my hair and kissed my neck, I didn’t move. I didn’t say anything when he asked me in a whisper if holding me was okay. I faked sleep and let it happen. Because I knew if I opened my mouth, I’d have to admit I was awake and pull away. I wasn’t ready to admit how much I thought about being with Kevin. I wasn’t ready to admit how tired I’d been of trying to be someone else and fight my true feelings, my desires. I wasn’t ready, and I was a coward for being relieved that he hadn’t brought it up or pushed the subject.
I fought every day to not fall into the possibilities of what we could be. Was I ready to be with him? Did it even matter if I was? No matter what I wanted or desired, I needed to remember the possible fallout of having marks on me that I couldn’t explain.
But wrapped in his arms, I didn’t want to be anywhere else. If I spoke, I never would’ve been able to admit it. So, in silence I cuddled closer. I denied the truth rattling in my head and let sleep claim me.
Chapter Forty-Five
Ana
Two weeks later, I knew it was time for me to leave.
Kev and I had packed up all my mom’s belongings and moved them to storage. He’d even helped me find a realtor and get the house on the market. He knew how hard it was on me to sell the house, and had stepped in when he could.
I’d taken the time he was at work to view apartments for myself. None of them felt right. I compared them all to Kevin’s and they were all missing that one thing I was looking for—Kevin. I hated the idea of leaving and being alone again. I was happier at Kevin’s.
We’d stuck to the just friends rule and had as much fun as when we were teens. He’d even gone out and gotten the new Twisted Metal game for his PS4 so we could play at night. I’d still kicked his ass and shit-talked him the whole time I did it.
Some nights he’d order dinner, but then there were nights when we worked together in the kitchen. We’d have wine and make fun of the way the other cooked. I’d turned on music and danced around him as he struggled to not get burned by splattering bacon grease one morning. Sometimes we’d spend the evening watching movies.
Through it all, he’d found ways to touch me. Holding my waist as he moved me aside in the kitchen. Shoving my shoulder when I won a game. Rubbing my feet as we watched television. Brushing against me as we walked past each other in the hall. Each time it sent a tingle through my body, heating my skin.
And at night, he’d managed to pull me into his arms. Despite our efforts of falling asleep on opposite sides, we’d always end up entangled by morning. We both seemed to make it a point to ignore the morning wood that pressed against my ass when we woke. If he wasn’t going to point it out, then neither was I.