“You need to go.”
“I don’t want to.”
“If your mom cat—”
“She’s passed out. Don’t worry about her.”
Determined to stay away from her, I walked toward my dresser to grab a pair of gym shorts.
“I’m going to take a shower. Please be gone when I come out.”
For some reason, I thought she might actually listen to me, but she was sitting in the exact spot I’d left her in. I should have known better. She was as stubborn as she was beautiful.
“Hi.” She waved when I walked out of the bathroom.
“You’re relentless.”
“I go after what I want. I’m sure you can understand that.”
With those two sentences she was able to convince me that her insistence was enough to have me order, “Scoot over.”
She beamed, realizing she got her way. I never stood a chance, and if it weren’t for football keeping me busy, I probably would have given in before tonight.
Fucking Valentine’s Day.
She pulled the covers back while I crawled to her. Getting under the sheets, she laid down, and I followed suit. Except, I laid my head on her stomach, demanding a head and back scratch.
She giggled, and the second I felt her nails dig into my scalp, I groaned, “Fuck, that feels good.”
“How was Kyle’s?”
“Nothing too exciting. How’s your book?”
“It’s amazing.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s a historical romance that takes place during World War II. It’s set in Russia. I’ve probably read it a hundred times.”
“Then why are you reading it again?”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“You have a lot of favorites.”
“I do, but this one is extra special.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the hero reminds me of you.”
“I’m far from a hero, Sophie.”
“That’s something Alexander Barrington would say.”
I felt jealous immediately. “Who the fuck is Alexander?”
She laughed. “Oh, you know … just the guy I’m in love with.”