She fit against me so perfectly. My arm went around her, curling over her back. She lay her cheek against my shoulder.
We lay there without speaking, listening to each other breathe. We didn’t seem to need words. She was right; we’d done enough talking for a while.
After a long t
ime, I realized that we were lying in the dark, which I usually hated. But it didn’t seem so bad.
Then I realized Tessa was asleep.
I had only a minute to think about it before I was gone into oblivion.
Twenty-One
Tessa
* * *
I’ve always been a deep sleeper. When I’m out, I’m all the way out until I finally come back to consciousness. That must have been how Andrew got out of bed the next morning without me noticing.
It was early—just after seven, according to my phone, which was still in the pocket of my jeans on the floor. The rain had stopped in the night, the storm passing over. I pulled on my now-dry jeans and my T-shirt, ditching the bra, and crossed the hall to use the bathroom.
I felt…good. Really good. Rested and satisfied, though Andrew and I hadn’t done the full range of things we could possibly do. We hadn’t even started. And I still felt pretty freaking fantastic.
I came out of the bathroom and heard sounds from the other room in the hall. I’d peeked into this room before and knew it was a workout room. Andrew was doing his morning workout.
He was on his back on a weight bench, doing chest presses. I stood in the doorway and watched for a minute, not wanting to startle him.
He was wearing a black tee and gray sweatpants. His arms and chest flexed, his dark eyes fixed on a point on the ceiling. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple and into his hair.
He put the weight down on its rack and sat up, looking at me over his shoulder. His expression was careful, unreadable. “Morning,” he said.
And I felt it—that little trickle of excitement, like champagne bubbles moving through my blood. The feeling of being with a guy I liked. Of being the focus of his attention, of having nothing else to look at but him. “Morning,” I said.
He swiveled on the bench, moving his legs off and putting his feet on the ground. I was getting used to it now, how Andrew arranged himself. It wasn’t weird or clumsy; it was just how he moved. I walked to the bench and sat next to him.
This was the moment when it might be awkward. I’d told him my rawest secret last night, and I knew his. We hadn’t talked about it. We would, eventually, and it would be a dark conversation. We both had unresolved shit, and Andrew was convinced I was going to dump him. We’d had sort-of sex, we’d slept together, and we were both in uncharted territory. I should be fumbling around, making excuses and leaving. Instead I looked at him and thought, Damn, girl, you got that. Get it again.
“I have to go to work,” I said, like a dope.
“Yeah,” Andrew said. He scratched his chin slowly, his fingers rasping over his beard. He wasn’t awkward either. He wasn’t defensive or throwing quips at me. This was thoughtful Andrew, his face relaxed, his eyes focused on the wall as the super-intelligent thoughts went around in his head. I looked at his fingers and thought of how they’d touched me last night, how they’d made me come.
He’d had a lot of women, once upon a time. I saw that now. I could see the twenty-three-year old who had all the women he wanted.
But none of those women were here now. I got him all to myself.
“You’re going to the photo shoot?” he asked, glancing at me.
I didn’t want to think about taking my clothes off in front of a lot of people, but I said, “Yeah. It’s the last day. Then I’m working a shift at Miller’s.”
He nodded. “You hungry?”
“I can’t eat right before a shoot. I’ll get coffee on the way. I’m going home to shower and change.”
“Okay.”
“I’m coming over later. After my shift.”
He looked at me again, his eyes catching mine. Something flickered in his, and he said, “You sure?”