Page 65 of The Fall Out

“Aw.” Emerson tilted forward, planted an elbow on the island, and rested his chin in his hand, beaming at Chris.

Chris pointed at his roommate, his face a stony mask again. “Don’t start.”

“So?” Gianna looked so hopeful, and Emerson was smirking. Chris looked ready to pass out for the night. It didn’t seem fair to make him walk me home.

My chest squeezed tight. “I can stay.”

“Slumber party!” Emerson laughed.

Gianna shook her head at him, but she was almost smiling. He hadthat effect on people. No one could stay cranky long around him. Even Chris struggled with it.

“I can sleep on the sofa so you two can have the bed,” Gianna suggested, eyeing me, then her brother.

My heart skipped, and then I was inundated with one vivid memory after another. His lips moving down my body. Writhing against his tongue. Pounding desire, burning need. The look in his eye as he moved inside me. The sound he made when he came. My breath sped up, and heat pooled low in my core.

My cheeks flamed, and suddenly, it was hard to pull in a full breath.

“No,” Chris snapped. Like he was angry that she’d even suggest it. But of course he was. Our relationship wasn’t like that.

I shook myself out of the memories.

“The couch is fine really,” I assured them, though as I did, I ran my hands over my hips, remembering the short navy dress I was wearing. Even without the stockings, it would be wildly uncomfortable to sleep in. “But maybe I could borrow sweats or something.”

All three piped up at the same time.

Chris lifted his hand. “I’ve got clothes,” he said to me, then he glared at Gianna and Emerson. “Please stop being weird.”

Part of me wanted to agree. Since I mentioned leaving, every moment had been awkward.

Without another word, Chris righted the stool he’d knocked over, then stomped out of the kitchen.

“He doesn’t express it well, but he’s thrilled you’re staying. Really.” Emerson rounded the island and looped his arm over my shoulder. “And I’d hate seeing you wandering in the snow. So you want a drink?”

“Nah, I’m good.” I rested my head on his shoulder and felt some of the tension that had taken over in the last few minutes ease from my body. Since Chris and I had become good friends, his teammates had all developed this older-brother type protectiveness when it came to me. And I couldn’t say I hated it.

I peeked up at Emerson. “Are we really watchingSchitt’s Creek?”

“I don’t know. Chris hates it.”

Tilting my head back, I frowned at him. “Really?”

“It’s, like, impossible to believe, right?” Gianna shook her head.

Footsteps echoed through the foyer, and then Chris appeared, holding a bundle of clothing.

“You hateSchitt’s Creek?” I asked.

With a long breath through his nose, he glared at his roommate. “Stop telling people that.”

Emerson dropped his arm and reached for his beer, but he didn’t respond.

“He probably says it because it’s true.” Gianna shrugged.

“Do not gang up on me.” Chris hadn’t glared this much in weeks, but his roommate and his sister had obviously made some kind of pact to press every one of his buttons tonight. “Just because I don’t love it like you do doesn’t mean I hate it. If it’s what you want to watch, then we’ll watch it.” Though his words were harsh, when he turned to face me, his expression was gentle. He held out a Revs T-shirt and a pair of black sweats. “These have a drawstring, so they should work.”

“Thanks. I’m going to change before we start it, if that’s okay.”

“Better use the hall bathroom. Gianna’s shit is all over mine.”

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