“Shit, I’m sorry,” I start saying, rubbing my chest, but he’s already shaking his head.
“I slept so hard the first day here. Jet lag’s a bitch, and I’ve been told it’ll be even worse when we get home.”
My knuckles pause as everything in me stills.
He seems to realize too what he just said, and everything that happened yesterday rushes back to the forefront, hanging heavily between us.
Because the fact of the matter is simple, sitting in me like an unmovable stone.
We won’t be going home together.
I swallow hard, and dig my nails into the cup.
“Will…”
“Are you okay?” I ask, lifting my gaze up at him through my lashes.
His eyes tighten. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
I shake my head. “I meant… Are you sore?”
He rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss the slight flush on his cheeks. “I’m fine. I’m sitting, aren’t I?”
A low creaky chuckle escapes me at that.
“It’s a good hurt, Will,” he assures me quietly. Something in his voice has me sobering. He smiles, and it’s a gentle smile, almost wistful. “Really good.”
Jesus.
“Masochist,” I mutter taking another sip of cold coffee.
His grin widens, dark brows wagging. “Sadist.”
My gaze drops to the dimples sinking deeply in his cheeks, and my chest tightens. Mouth dries. Coffee goes down like ash.
I set the cup back down on the table.
“Will—”
“You were happy,” I hear myself say, my voice no louder than a whisper.
“What?” he whispers back. Not moving his furrowed gaze off my face, he reaches down to set the guitar on the floor, before scooting closer to me and grabbing my lifeless hands.
I drop my attention to our laced fingers, finally tighten them around his. “Last night. When you got to the hotel. You were happy.” I force a hard swallow and finally look up to meet his wary hazel eyes. “You were smiling and laughing and singing and…”
My voice trails off. I don’t need to finish the thought, but he finishes it for me anyway.
“You thought I was drunk.”
My face bunches and I look away.
“Hey.”
His hands squeeze mine, jostling me a bit to get my attention.
I drop my gaze before dragging it back up to his.
“I’m not mad,” he says.