Best I Ever Had

“Okay.” I move closer. His arm lifts like a parking garage gate, and I slide into place tucked into the nook of his body. Our bodies simmer together as I control the flames threatening to flare into a full-on blaze from the connection.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

“Because I thought you’d treat me differently, and truthfully, I like how things have been between us.”

“I do, too.”

“I like how you see me. I feel that deep down,” I say, a hand pressing to my chest. “I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“I get that, and you’re right. I would have treated tonight, and you, differently. I wouldn’t have gone as fast, and I would have checked in on you more along the way.”

“But I don’t need that. I didn’t.” I kiss his chest. “What we just did was perfect to me. Isn’t that what matters?” I drape my arm over him, holding him. “The rest is just fluff or icing on the top.”

He kisses my head, then my cheek, and lingers on my lips. “You deserve fluff and icing.” His arm tightens around me, and he kisses me again. When he lies back, he adds, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me. I’m serious, Cooper. I lov—” I stop the words from flowing from my mouth, worried that even though I loved the sex we had, using the l-word in any context might rock the boat even more.

“You don’t have to be careful with me, Story. Say what’s on your mind when you feel it. It’s the only way things are going to work in a relationship.” A growing grin lends itself to the lighter mood working its way across his face. “I loved it, too. You felt . . . it was amazing.”

Although he called me amazing, and that has me floating on air, it’s the other word that has my heart racing again. “Relationship?” I ask, no longer careful with my words.

“Yeah.” He runs his hand over his head, his eyes suddenly fixed on the small overhead light that needs dusting. “But we need to talk about tomorrow—”

Mentally ticking through my schedule for tomorrow—no more classes, a day off work—I come up blank. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

He sits up, leaning against the wall for support. “I’m leaving.”

The somberness of his tone starts to concern me, my mind suddenly spinning. “Like for the holidays or for good?”

“The holidays, but I was going home until school started back up.”

Now I sit up, holding the sheet over my chest. “That’s four weeks, Cooper.”

Nodding, he says, “That’s why we should talk about the holiday break. What are your plans?”

“I’ll be here working.”

“The whole time?”

The question has me pausing to consider my answer as if I have another option. I don’t. “I was thinking about spending a weekend at the Cape—”

“I can meet you there.”

Of course, he can meet me there. Doesn’t seem like he has many cares in the world. My eyes narrow. Although it’s a sweet gesture, I can’t stop my scoff. “I was being sarcastic. I’ve never been to Cape Cod.”

“Oh.” He tugs at a loose thread on the blanket as if it has become the most interesting thing in the world.

“Why am I starting to feel like something’s off between us?”

Holding out his hand, he waits until I place mine on his palm before sandwiching it with his other. “It’s not you or us. It’s me. I don’t want to go home, but I have family shit to deal with. Once that’s done, I’m free.”

“Free for what?”

“For you.” He drops that bomb like he doesn’t know the impact it would make. And then he raises an eyebrow. The shake of his head is minute, but I catch it. “If you’d like to continue this. Not just the sex . . . Fuck.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “This is coming out all wrong. I’d like to see you again, to hang out and stuff.”

I give him a smile, and he pushes up on my knees to rotate to sit next to him. With my back against the wall, our hands clasped together, fingers entwined, I lean my head on his shoulder. “I like hanging out with you.” I bring his hand to my lips and kiss each finger. “I like a lot with you, especially the time we’ve spent together.”

His arm reaches over me, and his hand cups my cheek, bringing me to meet his eyes. “I never expected to meet you. The timing sucks with winter break. I don’t know much about you, Story. Where you’re from . . .” My stomach clenches. “What’s your major? How do I not know any of this?”

“The avoidance thing when Haywood Hall is brought up.”

He chuckles. “You have classes in Haywood Hall, but I never imagined you as an accounting major.”