“Well, at least somebody’s having a good time.”
I look up to see Nathan coming down the corridor. “Oh, hey.” I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. The sight of him. I can’t describe it. I mean, objectively he’s gorgeous, obviously, but there’s also something about him that makes me feel that I’ve come home after a long day.
“Just came out from the groom’s suite,” he says with a sigh.
“Oof. How’re they doing?”
“Well, they’re awake, so there’s that, but a couple of them are trying to shift the blame by saying that their drinks must’ve been spiked in order for them to get that drunk.”
I stare at him in horror. “Seriously?” How fucking entitled can you get?
Nathan sighs again. “Yep, seriously. Unfortunately, this kind of thing isn’t unique. You won’t believe the number of times guests have blamed us for some random thing just to cover their asses or get a freebie.”
“That sucks. I empathize. I deal with people on the most stressful day of their lives, so . . . yeah. I don’t usually see the best side of them.”
His mouth quirks into a crooked smile that doubles my heart rate. “Did you mean ‘the happiest day of their lives’？”
“I meant what I meant, dude. Sure, it’s a happy occasion with some truly beautiful moments, but it’s also stressful as hell, especially when you’re Chinese-Indo and need to invite two thousand people to your wedding.”
“True.” He continues smiling at me as if I’m very interesting instead of a wildly ranting weirdo. “So, um, I have a confession to make.”
I have to swallow before speaking “Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot.”
“Uh-oh. Don’t overdo it.”
His smile widens, and I’m treated to a full view of its gorgeousness. It’s a full-on assault. His face should be illegal, the way his dark chocolate eyes crinkle at the edges and the way those dimples appear. He looks like a combination of Daniel Henney and Lewis Tan, a combination that is waaay too hot for his own good.
“I’ve mainly been thinking about feet.”
“Uh.” Okay, this is not where I thought the conversation was going to go. “Well, I’m glad that you’ve picked up a fetish since college . . . ?” I smile in what I hope is a very open-minded way. I think the smile ends up looking slightly demented.
Nathan laughs. “Sorry, I wasn’t being clear. Though it’s interesting that that’s where your mind went.”
“Oh, like there’s a different way to take ‘I’ve been thinking about feet’？”
“Good point. Anyway, more specifically, I’ve been thinking about your feet.” He winces and quickly adds, “Okay, wait, that came out a lot creepier than it should have.”
“Yeah, that did come out pretty creepy,” I laugh, though the thought of Nathan thinking about anything that has to do with me makes things inside me flutter.
“I’ve been thinking about how, when you go to sleep at night, your feet wag back and forth.”
I bite my lip as memories come rushing back. Of us, tumbling about under the sheets, not leaving my bed for days. Of the conversations we had in between devouring each other, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. We’d talk about everything, from physics to games to mutual friends, and we’d watch from bed as the sky went from inky black to smoky purple and wonder about how we’d just spent the entire night awake and didn’t feel tired at all.
That first night we spent together, as I was dozing off, he said, “Do you always do that with your feet?”
My feet stopped still. “Do what?”
“No, don’t stop. They were like, wagging back and forth under the covers.” He turned his head to look at me, smiling. “That’s so cute.”
“Sorry,” I moaned. “My mom said my future husband would complain about my restless feet.”
He laughed. “Your future husband?”
“Well, according to her, I can only share a bed with one dude in life, and that’s my husband.” I wince inwardly at the magnitude of this statement. “Not that I’m saying you’re my future husband, I mean, you’re not the first guy I’ve shared a bed with. I’ve been with plenty others before. Not plenty, but like, you know. I don’t want to marry you, is what I’m saying. I mean, not like—”