Head Over Feels

The humor’s lost on her, judging by how red her face is and her scowl. “We will never speak of this.”

“It’s perfectly fine.”

A hand is clamped over my mouth. “Never, Rad!”

“Got it,” I mumble from behind her fingers.

When she lowers her hand, I hear a heavy swallow before she sets her eyes on me again. “I was kidding with you when I asked if you loved me. I knew you were talking about your car.”

I hand her the last packet, which she takes while squeezing her eyes. “Ugh. I’m never going to live this down, am I?” She tosses it into the drawer and then gets up, shoving the drawer back into the nightstand.

As if I’ve said something, I’m shot another look. But then she softens, and a smile leads to laughter. “Just to clear up any assumptions you might be having, Cammie gave me a box of one hundred condoms as a gift a few years ago.”

Considering the number of condoms we just picked up, I can only assume she hasn’t used many. And I’m not upset. I grin. “They expire, you know?”

She sighs. “It was supposed to be a gag gift. That’s all. I actually forgot about them. I never use that drawer.” She pauses, panic striking her eyes. “Almost never.”

She clears her throat, flustered and searching for an out, but then lays into me again, “With all that I had going on at work, with the move, and searching for a new place, I forgot to clear out this drawer. Happy?”

“Um—” I’m not quite sure how to answer that. “I’m not sure my happi—”

“I didn’t even think about it until I saw you carrying the nightstand.” Why is she so upset? She’s spinning over something she doesn’t even need to worry about.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Tealey.” I stand back up with the nightstand wrapped in my arms. “I’m going to take this to the truck.”

“Can we pretend this never happened?”

“Your secrets are safe with me.”

“Which secrets?” She smirks.

“Right. That never happened.” She gives me a little wink. I’m a bit slow this morning, but I finally caught on. “Also, never look in my nightstand.” I give her a wink right back.

“Ooh, do tell. What do you keep in your nightstand, Welly?”

“Nothing that innocent eyes like yours should ever see.” I start down the stairs again, chuckling.

“Gah, I’m so intrigued now. Why do you tease me so?” She trails me, giggling.

“Because it’s fun.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” I don’t have to turn back to know she rolled her eyes. And she won’t see the big grin I’m wearing the rest of the way down the staircase. I can’t even explain why I’m in such a good mood, other than she just makes me happy.

When I hand the nightstand to Cade, who’s standing in the back of the truck, he says, “About time, man. At this rate, it’s going to take all morning.”

“There’s not much left.” He turns to pack the nightstand against the mattress. I rest against the bumper, and ask, “Did you guys know she has a mug collection?”

Jackson starts cackling. “Everyone knows that.”

“I didn’t.”

Cade hops down, tapping my forehead as he passes. “Because you haven’t been paying attention.”

I swat him away. Although he might be right, I can’t give him the satisfaction. As a matter of fact, when I give it some thought, I know he’s right. When she’s in a relationship, my attraction to her is dead on arrival with nowhere to go. It was easier to keep a wall, even a poorly built one, between us than seeing her with another guy.

Tealey Bell is off-limits because she has always been on my mind . . . not because she is. It’s been a good tool to protect my thoughts from straying her way, though one I’ve failed miserably at lately.

All I can deduce is that is why my mind has been all over the place with her, why I suddenly feel the need to see her face, wonder what she’s wearing, and figure out why she has so many damn coffee cups.

When she was dating someone else, it was easy to admire her but not pine when I’d see her at dinner with the group or joke across a table at brunch.

Pine?

No, that’s not what I do.

I don’t pine.

“. . . shirt.” I’m about to bat Cade away again but realize it’s Tealey tapping me on the shoulder. “Your shirt,” she says, rubbing my arm.

I glance between my sleeve and her eyes that are fixed on my bicep. With her teeth tugging on her bottom lip, I lose my train of thought. “Huh?”

She lowers her hand to my stomach. “And here. That’s two spots.” My body tenses under her touch, curious where she’s heading next.

“Two spots?” I repeat like an idiot who’s being rubbed by a beautiful woman . . . oh, right. I take her hand, stopping her because we’re entering dangerous territory with my mind going dumb and my body reacting on its own.