I nod, but before he can climb out of bed, I pull him back and press my lips against his cheek. “I like you, Graham.” I roll off him and head to my bathroom.
He calls out after me. “Of course you like me, Quinn! I’m your soul mate!”
I laugh as I close the door to the bathroom. And then I want to scream when I look in the mirror. Holy shit. I have mascara smeared everywhere. A pimple that appeared on my forehead overnight. My hair is a mess, but not in that sexy, come-hither way. It’s just a mess. Like a rat slept in it all night.
I groan and then yell, “I’m taking a shower!”
Graham yells back from the kitchen. “I’m looking for food!”
I doubt he finds much. I don’t keep a lot of groceries at my house because I rarely cook since I live alone.
I step into the shower. I have no idea if he’s staying after breakfast, but while I shower, I make sure to pay special attention to certain areas just in case.
I’ve been in the shower all of three minutes when I hear the bathroom door open.
“You don’t have anything to eat.”
The sound of his voice in my bathroom surprises me so much, I almost slip and fall. I grip the shower bar and steady myself, but immediately let go of the bar and cover my breasts when I see the shower curtain move.
Graham peeks his head inside the shower. He looks straight at my face and nowhere else, but I’m still doing everything I can to shield myself.
“You have absolutely no food. Crackers and a stale box of cereal.” He says this like it’s not at all unusual that he’s looking at me naked. “Want me to go grab breakfast?”
“Um . . . okay.” I’m wide-eyed, still shocked from his confident intrusion.
Graham grins, pulling his bottom lip in with his teeth. His eyes begin to slowly trail down my body. “My God, Quinn,” he whispers. He closes the shower curtain and says, “I’ll be back in a little while.” Right before he walks out of my bathroom I hear him whisper, “Fuck.”
I can’t help but smile. I love how that just made me feel.
I turn back around and face the shower spray as I close my eyes and let the warm water beat down on my face. I can’t figure Graham out. He’s just the right amount of confident and cocky. But he balances that out with his reverent side. He’s funny and smart and he comes on way too strong, but it all feels genuine.
Genuine.
If I had to describe him in one word, that would be it.
It surprises me because I never thought of Ethan as genuine. There was always a part of me that felt his seeming perfection was part of an act. Like he had been taught how to say all the right things but it wasn’t inherent with him. It was as if he studied how to be the version of himself he presented to everyone.
But with Graham, I have a feeling he’s been who he is all his life.
I wonder if I’ll learn to trust him. After what I went through with Ethan, I’ve felt like that would never happen.
When I’m finished in the shower, I dry off and pull on a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. I have no idea if Graham has intentions of hanging out today, but until I find that out, I’ll be dressing for comfort.
When I walk back into the bedroom, I grab my phone off the nightstand and notice several missed texts.
I saved my contact in your phone. This is Graham. Your soul mate.
What do you want for breakfast?
McDonald’s? Starbucks? Donuts?
Are you still in the shower?
Do you like coffee?
I can’t stop thinking about you in the shower.
Okay, then. I’ll get bagels.
I’m in my bedroom hanging up laundry when I hear Graham walk through the front door. I walk to the living room and he’s at the table, laying out breakfast. A lot of breakfast.
“You didn’t specify what you wanted, so I got everything.”
My eyes scan the box of donuts, the McDonald’s, the Chick-fil-A. He even got bagels. And Starbucks. “Are you trying to replicate the breakfast scene from Pretty Woman when Richard Gere orders everything off the menu?” I smile and take a seat at the table.
He frowns. “You mean this has been done before?”
I take a bite of a glazed donut. “Yep. You’re gonna have to be more original if you want to impress me.”
He sits down across from me and pulls the lid off a Starbucks cup. He licks the whipped cream. “I guess I’ll have to cancel the white limo that’s supposed to pull up to your fire escape this afternoon.”
I laugh. “Thank you for breakfast.”
He leans back in his seat, placing the lid back on his coffee. “What are your plans today?”