Page 20 of Make Me Want it Too

“No, really?—”

He shrugs me off. “I’m good. Do you need anything?”

Over on the nightstand there’s a full glass of water, a little bowl of roasted almonds and an underripe banana. He knew to get an underripe one.

“No.” I don’t know what to say. “I mean, thank you.”

“No problem.” He lays down on the blankets, adjusting the pillows, and I turn off the light and get into his bed, not knowing what else to do.

It’s comfy. Soft. The sheets smell clean, like rain-scented soap. They don’t smell like him, and I’m alarmingly disappointed by this. I feel terrible. He shouldn’t be the one sleeping on the floor.

I lean over the edge of the bed to tell him this is silly, him sleeping on the floor. In fact, the whole thing is silly. I’m just going to go back up to the loft and forget it.

“Psst. Wood.”

No movement. No stirring. I listen closely, holding my breath to hear his low, rhythmic breathing. He’s already asleep.

“Okay, you remember the story?” Wood asks.

“Yes.”

I’m standing here, in his room, mid-morning, wearing only one of his large T-shirts. I told him I always wear my Garfield T-shirt, and I would never go out to the kitchen in just this.

“Not today,” he’d said.

I swallow as my heart races. He’s standing there casually, in just low-slung sweatpants. I’m wearing the other part of his outfit, presumably.

He comes up to me, assessing. “One more thing.”

Then he puts both of his hands into my hair and swirls them around, making it a mess.

“Was that necessary?” I ask, ignoring the fact that his fingers against my scalp did feel kind of nice.

“If you think you’d spend the night with me and I wouldn’t mess up your hair, I need to work on my reputation,” he says with a chuckle and a wink.

Oh.

My silly little brain sends an ego boost of serotonin through my body when Wood talks about spending the night with him—as if it thinks he’s actually talking about wanting to sleep with me and mess up my hair, and not this pretend thing.

“You look good.” He flashes me a hint of white teeth then opens the door. “After you.”

I’d never do this in real life. Flaunt a one-night stand—not that I’ve had any. Walk around in his shirt with no pants? Never.

I keep one hand tugged down on the hem so it doesn’t ride up and flash my underwear. I pad out, bare feet on the cool concrete, to where Livvy and Noah are already in the kitchen, his arm around her waist as she sips some coffee.

Wood’s footsteps slap behind me, making them look over. Livvy’s eyes go wide, her mouth dropping open as she takes in the sight of Wood and I coming out together.

Noah’s expression doesn’t change, unreadable. But he’s looking. He’s definitely seeing this.

My cheeks go hot, and I pull the shirt down even more.

“Morning, fam!” Wood booms as he comes up behind me and snakes a hand around my waist.

We didn’t talk about touching.

Then he pulls me against his side, and I yelp, quickly trying to cover it up with a giggle. I almost touch a chiseled ab as I’m trying to steady myself. I yank my hand away, giggling harder. Where do I put my hands?

How did I get here, pressed up against Wood’s ridiculously tanned, chiseled, bare chest? What have I gotten myself into?

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