“You too. Now go to sleep.”
I sighed. “You’re right. I have an audition tomorrow and I need to look fresh.”
“A bra audition? That’s a thing?”
“Yes. So I need my beauty sleep.”
“Turn your light out or I’ll worry.”
I reached over and switched off my lamp. “Better?”
“Better. Good night.”
“Good night.”
We hung up and I lay in the darkness, sweating. And I pictured Andrew Mason in bed.
I didn’t mind that picture at all.
Nine
Andrew
* * *
Tessa didn’t get her beauty sleep.
I didn’t get much either, but I got a little. Enough for me. I was up early the next morning, drinking my coffee as the sun rose high and started baking the street outside. I turned on the monitor showing the house across the street just as Tessa came out her front door.
She had on a loose, flowing top, practically a piece of cotton. Peeking from the wide neck I could see the straps of a bikini tied at the back of her neck. She wore shorts and flip-flops, no makeup, her hair messy. She walked slowly out of her front door, opened her car, fished in the front seat for something. Then she walked back to her door.
She looked fucking exhausted. Even on the monitor I could see it, the way her walk didn’t have any bounce to it. She ran a hand through her hair in a tired gesture and disappeared back into the house.
I picked up my phone. Hesitated.
This is a bad idea.
It was creepy, for one thing. It was weird enough that I’d called her last night when I’d seen her light on—I shouldn’t even have been looking. Now I was looking again.
But that wasn’t the only reason. It was just a bad idea. Very, very bad.
This isn’t going to work out.
She isn’t interested in you, even as a friend. No one is.
You’re going to get hurt.
I held the phone in my hand and I closed my eyes.
Do it.
Don’t do it.
Try something. Do it.
No. Don’t.
Jesus, everything was so fucking hard.