It feels great when your best friends like the girl you like, but we’re barely through the front door before they spot Anastasia behind me and turn back into golden retrievers. If I wasn’t seeing it firsthand, I would never believe it. I’ve known these guys for years, and I’ve never seen them act the way they do when Stas and Sabrina are around.
Henry is the first to start. “What are you doing here? Do you want to watch a movie with us? Are you staying over?”
Winding her arm around my waist and leaning into me, she grins up at me before looking back at Henry. “Nathan kidnapped me because he wants to play house.”
“You can call me Daddy anytime, Stassie,” JJ shouts at her from the couch.
“Up.” I hip bump her gently in the direction of the stairs. “Stop being a menace, Johal. She doesn’t want you.”
JJ scoffs loudly. “I don’t believe that. Everyone wants me.”
Henry frowns as Stassie heads toward the stairs, muttering under his breath. “I don’t want you, JJ.”
* * *
Beingwith Stassie completely sober might be my new favorite thing.
I love talking to her. It sounds obvious, and it is, but I love listening to her dive headfirst into a story. The way she has to hold back a laugh when she tells me something Sabrina said, or the sad smile she has when talking about Seattle. Her Brady impression with a terrible Russian accent still makes me cackle laughing, even after I’ve heard it twenty times.
She has opinions and interests, and beneath her obsessively organized and competitive nature, she’s a woman who just wants to do well. It makes me feel shit that I labeled her as dramatic because, don’t get me wrong, she has her moments, but ultimately, she’s committed and she was just scared.
Another fun discovery I’ve made about sober Stassie is that for someone so opposed to clingy behavior, she’s being pretty goddamn clingy.
As in, literally clinging to me.
Like a koala.
Or a sloth.
Her entire body is wrapped around me. Face buried in my neck, hair repeatedly tickling my nose, legs straddling my waist, leaving me no choice but to balance my laptop on her ass, one hand scrolling through a costume website and the other tickling up and down her back.
As much as I wish she didn’t feel shit, especially since it’s because of me Aaron is annoyed, I’m glad she’s with me instead of pushing me away.
“Do you have any body fat?” She wiggles down my body until she’s straddling my hips, sitting up a little so we’re face to face. “It’s like lying on a pavement. You’re absolutely solid.”
Closing over my laptop and putting it on the floor, I turn all my attention to the beautiful woman on top of me.
My T-shirt is drowning her, which is another thing I love. Weird, I know. It makes me wonder if there’s a psychological reason why her wearing my clothes makes me horny.
“I’m sorry the body I work so hard for doesn’t make a good mattress for you.” I run my thumb across her bottom lip, and when she nips her teeth against the pad, a devilish look on her face, all the blood in my body rushes straight to my dick. “I’m pretty sure you like my body for other reasons, though.”
Her hips roll against the erection fighting to get out of my boxers and I swear to God, one tiny movement and this girl has me ready to lose my damn mind.
“You know what I want?” she muses, finger outlining each ab as her hand trails toward my belly button.
“Tell me, Anastasia, what do you want?”
“Food.” She giggles, lying back down on my chest, propped by her forearms. “I’m starving.”
I’ve been trying to get her to choose something to eat since we got home. It’s been an impossible and frustrating task, possibly the most infuriating one of my life.
I offered to get takeout. I offered to cook. I offered to just choose for us, but everything was met with a grumble and a head shake. So I try again, leaning forward first to kiss the tip of her nose since she looks so fucking cute right now. “Burgers?”
“Too many calories.”
“Pizza?”
“Calories.”