But I mean, I guess it’s something, right?
“I’m sorry,” she says, her soft voice cutting through my mental self-flagellation.
My gaze darts up sharply to her face. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I swear I wasn’t trying to be a tease or lead you on or—”
“Tess, stop,” I all but growl. “You did nothing wrong either.”
“I pushed you,” she admits. “I wanted to…to not feel so alone.” I can hear the tears catching in her throat. “Ryan, I’ve been so alone—”
Her voice breaks, and I’m on my feet. I pull her to me, my arms wrapping around her shoulders as I just hold her. “It’s okay,” I say against her temple, a few of her soft curls brushing my lips. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
After a moment, she relaxes, her sobs muffled by my shirt as her hands skim around my waist. Then she’s clinging to me. We’re relaxed, but firmly together. It feels nice. Compared to her smooth curves, I’m all hard edges.
“I’m sorry,” she hiccups, pulling back. “I’m such a fucking mess.”
“New house rule,” I reply, brushing my thumbs under her eyes to wipe away her tears. “No more apologizing for this,” I say, gesturing between us. “We’re attracted to each other. I can admit it. I think you can too. Tess, you’re fucking magnetic. I don’t think I can stay away, even if I try…and I don’t want to,” I add with a smirk.
She gives another little watery laugh. “I’m not trying to push you away. I’m just—such a goddamn mess—”
“House rule number two,” I say, cutting her off. “No more self-deprecation. You’re not a disaster or a pain or an inconvenience or any of the four-hundred and fifty other terrible names you probably have rolling around up here,” I say, tapping her temple. “Be nice to my friend, Tess. Okay?”
Her mouth quirks with a smile she’s trying not to let loose. Slowly, she nods.
“Let’s press pause on this,” I say, gesturing between us. “Bad timing now isn’t bad timing forever, right?”
She nods, her eyes still glassy with unshed tears.
“Hey, I have an idea,” I say. “How about you put on your PJs, and I’ll make us some popcorn. We can watch whatever you want on the TV in my room.”
She blinks up at me. “In your room?”
“Sometimes it helps me to fall asleep with the TV on. I bet you’ll pick something girly, and then I can just kind of zone out and maybe actually fall asleep.”
Her eyes flash as she pops her hands on those hips—which should be a crime because it just pulls on the opening of her silky robe, showing me more of her breasts. “You want me to pick the TV show so you can zone out to a stupid chick flick?”
“That way we both win, right?” Ducking down on one leg with the balance of a pro hockey player, I snatch up my crutch from the floor. “Meet me over there in five,” I call over my shoulder, not giving her a chance to say no.
And that’s how I found myself eating three bags of popcorn and staying up until 2:00 a.m. rewatching the first four episodes of Sons of Anarchy. I lost Tess somewhere early in episode three. She passed out on my bed, her arm curled around the empty popcorn bowl, green jelly eye patch things stuck to her cheeks, with fuzzy llama socks on her feet.
Clicking off my bedside lamp, I settle down into the pillows and try to get comfortable. Doc assures me I won’t have to wear this stupid brace for much longer.
Next to me, Tess shifts. I lie still, curious to see what she wants, what she craves even in her sleep. She inches closer, unknowingly using the sink of the mattress to roll gently into me, our bodies connecting from the shoulder down. The smell of her coconutty hair oil fills my senses and I breathe deep. If I turn my face, my lips will practically be pressing against her forehead.
I don’t turn. I don’t breach her trust by taking something that wasn’t freely offered.
But I think about doing it. I think about casually kissing her the way I want. I think about holding her, entwining our legs together, feeling how all the soft parts of her fit the hard parts of me. I think about knowing her and letting her know me. All of me. The parts I share and the parts I hide away. Would she still want me? Would she care?
I think about sharing the quiet touches of such a casual intimacy until sleep takes me.
And when I wake, Tess is gone.
Again.