Page 55 of The Fake Out

I sighed. I’d asked for one night, and he’d given it to me. No matter how great it was, it didn’t seem fair to ask for more. I got his reasons for not wanting a situation that came with strings. And there was no way I’d interfere with his baseball career. So, swallowing down my unease, I dropped my red dress on the chair and pulled on a T-shirt.

I was scrutinizing my bed, considering whether I was really going to climb in, when my door opened. Emerson strode in wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs and headed straight to me. He tipped my chin up and placed his lips over mine. Of its own volition, my body sagged against him.

“We’ll sleep in here, and I’ll get new sheets tomorrow,” he promised against my lips, pulling me toward the bed. “I’m big on cuddling, Mariposa, so I need some snuggles.”

He pulled the comforter back and helped me in. Then he climbed in and spooned right up to me. With his knees cupped against the backs of my legs, he looped an arm around my middle and tucked me tightly against the hard wall of his chest. It was exactly what I needed, and yet?—

“Emerson?” I whispered.

“Night’s not over until the sun is up. We can figure out the rest tomorrow,” he mumbled into my hair, keeping me locked in his arms. “You feel really good like this, Gi,” he whispered against the back of my neck, his lips finding the skin there.

And although he kissed me when he woke me up to tell me he was leaving for his game, we never actually talked.

Linc: Since it’s been a million and two hours and we’ve still heard nothing I’m assuming that the night ended with the exact kind of bang I like.

Mila: Or they got kidnapped. That happens to famous people sometimes.

Linc: What famous people do you know who’ve been kidnapped?

Mila: I mean I don’t keep a list but isn’t that a thing?

Me: No one was kidnapped.

Linc: She rises from the orgasm bliss. Can you walk upright?

Me: GIF of a woman flipping the camera off

Mila: We still doing breakfast before we drive back this morning?

Linc: Of course we are. I want all details.

Me: 9:30 at Mama P’s - sound good?

Mila: Yay! I wanna try those banana pancakes.

Linc: Also I have an apartment possibility. A dude in our building with a one-bedroom is looking to sublet. He texted me this morning asking if Eli and I had any interest in getting a bigger place. I gave him your number.

Mila: Wait what? OMG why didn’t you tell me?

Linc: Because it’s for Gi. Why would I tell you?

Mila: GIF a woman rolling her eyes

Me: Yes give him my number - Mila don’t get your hopes up - who knows if I can afford it.

Mila: Hope’s already flying high!

Linc: See why I didn’t tell you? You’re practically screaming in my ear now.

The elevator ride up was almost too quick. These high-rises in Boston all had elevators that moved at warp speed so that twenty floors went in a blink. I’d been tortured for details all through breakfast with my friends, and although I’d given them a few, I’d kept them vague. Neither of them believed I could do one night. And I spent most of the meal claiming I wasn’t attached to the guy. Lying through my teeth was exhausting.

Right now, the only thing I wanted to do was crawl back into bed, but I’d promised Pop that I’d pick him up and take him to Chris’s game.

“Pop.” I smiled at my dad, who answered the door wearing jeans and a pin-striped jersey with the number 35 on the back. Ever since his heart attack, the relief I felt just seeing him was intense.

“Heard last night went great. Proud of you, girlie.” He smiled at me. “I saw a ton of pictures.”

Pictures? I hadn’t sent him a single one. Hell, I’d barely taken any. And I couldn’t see Chris doing it.

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