Page 56 of One Billion Reasons

She reddens and shakes her head.

“You’ve been sleeping on the couch?”

“Well, we were at each other’s throats when we arrived, and I just—” She shrugs. “It seemed silly to bring it up.”

Fuck you, Miles. I shut my eyes and groan softly. When I open them, she’s looking at me uncertainly.

“You’re sleeping in the bed.” She opens her mouth to argue, and I give her a pointed look.

She settles for, “Can I put my pajamas on first?”

I nod and toss my tux jacket onto a chair, then work my bow tie off. That’s as far as I get before Lane returns in an oversized sweatshirt and tiny shorts that reveal more than they cover.

Desires swirls in my gut, heady and thick.

“I need to lay down,” I mutter. I grab a water bottle from the top of the mini fridge and sink to the floor next to the bed. The carpet is thick and soft and mmm, that feels good. I shut my eyes.

“What are you doing?” She’s on the bed right next to me, and her head is cocked in confusion.

“Sobering up. Or don’t you remember this is my patented strategy?”

“Right.” She laughs softly. “You lie on the floor. How could I forget?”

“It only works if I have you to keep me awake, though.”

She laughs in earnest at that and settles deeper into the bed. On my side. That round, perky ass is right where my shoulder was last night. Will the scent of her hair be on my pillow? God, I hope so.

Pathetic, my brain screams. You’re pathetic.

“I miss this,” Lane murmurs.

“Hmm?” I’m hazy and warm and being with Lane feels right in ways I’d forgotten.

“Remember when we used to sit in the living room, and you’d lie on the floor?”

“The only thing missing are the snacks. Did you bring me guacamole, Laney?” I crack an eye and smile at her.

“I’m sure I can get some from room service.” She smiles back. “I miss just hanging out with you. We were unlikely friends, don’t you think?”

“Why unlikely?” I open both eyes so I can watch her reactions play across her face. She’s a little guarded in public, but in private, her walls were always down. Another thing I’d forgotten, or buried.

“The hot rich guy and the awkward artist? Come on. It’s like a bad movie.” She rolls her eyes.

Her compliment makes my chest swell. I may never recover from the fact that Lane Overton thinks I’m hot. “There’s a reason those movies are so popular. They speak the truth.” She raises a brow.

“You ground me.” I shut my eyes again, so I can think. My thoughts are running like rabbits in every direction, and staring at Lane makes it harder. “I was wild when I first went to college.”

“Still are,” she mutters.

“But I was worse then. I rebelled in the typical rich boy way. Staying out late, partying, sometimes with the wrong people. But when I got home, you were always there.”

“You make me sound lame,” she huffs.

“No. It was…wonderful. You never cared about my money. Like my dad didn’t. I come from a world where that’s all that matters.”

“I hate that.”

“Yeah. I hated it too, at the time. All I saw were obligations and expectations. And a world that had chewed my dad up and spit him out.”

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