He laughed. “Okay. Can I get you anything?”
“Got a spare toothbrush? Maybe an old T-shirt I could sleep in?”
“Be right back.”
While he was gone, I texted my mom that I was staying at Hutton’s and would be home in the morning. I noticed that I had notifications from Dearly Beloved and Instagram, but I ignored them and turned my phone off—I’d deal with the outside world tomorrow.
I’d just set my phone on the nightstand when Hutton appeared holding a folded white shirt, a toothbrush still in the package, and a travel tube of toothpaste on top. “Will this work?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I stood up and took everything from him, and our hands touched in the process. A jolt of heat shot up my arms.
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Need anything else?”
“Nope. I’m good.” Thunder boomed loudly from outside, and I jumped.
“You okay?”
“No.” I laughed, embarrassed. Without thinking, I made a quick joke. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”
Hutton’s face went white.
“I’m kidding,” I said, my face growing hot. “Because of what I told you earlier. Don’t worry, I won’t—”
“You can if you want to.”
“—actually crawl into your . . . huh?”
“You can sleep in my bed. If you want to. I mean, if you’re scared.”
What if I’m not scared and I just want to be close to you?
But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
Instead, I just smiled. “Thanks. But I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Goodnight.” He left the room quickly, pulling the door shut behind him.
I stood there for a moment staring at it. What just happened? Did I just reject an invitation? Did he want me to crawl into his bed tonight? Or was he just being nice?
Why were we so bad at this?
I kept obsessing over it as I took out my space buns, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and traded my dress and push-up bra for his T-shirt. The clean white cotton felt cool and soft against my skin. Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I wondered what to do. There had been moments tonight when we’d edged close to crossing the line. I knew I hadn’t imagined it.
But he’d also said things that led me to believe he didn’t want to risk our friendship just to mess around—and I didn’t either. What we had was rare.
What I wanted was reckless.
Turning off all the lights, I slipped between the sheets and stared into the dark. Rain drummed on the roof, punctuated by the occasional flash of lightning and growl of thunder.
Would one night of engaging in some questionable behavior ruin years of friendship? Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe we could just get a little naked and see what happened. Let our lips meet. Let our hands wander. Let go of our inhibitions in the dark.
Thunder boomed, so powerful it shook the house.
“This is crazy,” I whispered to myself, but I threw the covers back, swung my feet to the floor, hurried over to the door and threw it open.
Then I gasped.
Hutton stood there in the dark—shirtless—his hand raised as if he’d been about to knock.
SIX
HUTTON
“Oh!” Felicity’s hands flew to her cheeks. “I was just . . . um . . .”
My mind hopefully stepped in where her tongue left off.
Wondering if you want to get naked?
Curious about what your body would feel like on mine?
Thinking about fucking you in ten different ways?
Great, me too.
But what she said as her eyes wandered over my chest was, “Thirsty.”
“Right,” I said. “That’s why I’m here.”
“It is?”
“Yes, I thought you might be thirsty and I forgot to tell you there are bottles of water in the fridge. Why don’t I just get you one?” I turned away from her, my heart pounding, and walked quickly across the great room into the kitchen. Pulling the fridge door open, I stood there for a moment and let the cool air hit my bare chest. I stared at the contents, completely forgetting what I was looking for.
She knows, asshole. She totally knows why you were knocking on her bedroom door without a shirt on. I’d been standing there trying to be cocksure for five full minutes, vacillating over whether I should knock or not, imagining all the possible ways it could go.
The thing was, I was sure of my cock, but my cock wasn’t all that sure of me.
It was a huge risk, making this kind of move when you’d known someone as long as Felicity and I had known each other. It wasn’t like Zlatka approaching me at a party and saying, “I want you. Let’s get out of here.” That was unmistakable.