Page 41 of Audiophile

Countless quarters later, I head back to the room where Reed opens the door at my knock. He’s bright-cheeked, pupils huge. Did he get himself off? It makes total sense that he’d need to relieve the pressure, but I’m strangely rattled by it—and turned on. My brain moves at warp speed as I picture him stroking his cock. What did he imagine? How does he like to be touched?

“Petra? You okay?”

“Fine!” I chirp, holding my terrible giggles at bay. They come out at the worst moments. “I’ve got ice and chocolate, and I’m willing to share both.”

Reed produces two glasses for us and we lean against the counter together. I pass Reed a stick from my chocolate bar, and we both smile. Tonight was impulsive, reckless, and utterly unlike me. And amazing.

The second I pop the last bite in my mouth, Reed scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom. “C’mon, let’s get warm.” Reed throws the robe onto a nearby chair and we climb under the covers together.

He’s shirtless, and the sprinkling of hair all over him is intoxicating as I coil into him. He’s not the only one with hair, and I’m mortified when he runs his hands over my upper thighs. “I wasn’t planning on a date tonight,” I confess. “Much less getting naked with someone.”

He laughs and strokes my legs. “It’s soft. A little bit of fur for someone as lovely and skittish as a deer.”

“That’s so much worse,” I groan. But it isn’t, because no matter how on edge Reed puts me, he’s also the net at the bottom of the cliff.

Reed smiles as he cups my cheek. “Pet, you’re glowing.”

I flush further under his attention. “You’re not supposed to point out when someone is glowy,” I chide. He laughs and pulls me closer.

We talk for hours about nothing while our hands trace patterns over skin and fingers tangle in hair: our childhoods, our favorite shows, things our mothers do to drive us nuts.

“My mom calls me Petronia almost exclusively,” I complain, “and she tries to use my dad against me until I do whatever she wants.”

“I get that. My mom gave me an hour-long guilt trip over Skype one Christmas. She set her tablet on the sofa and kept saying ‘Oh, Reed would love that if he were here.’ But she refused to actually talk to me.”

“That’sawful!”

He shrugs. “It was mostly funny. A way to get me out of a bad mood and help me feel included. If I hung up, she called me right back.”

With each word, we grow closer. Occasionally, I think Reed might kiss me, but he doesn’t. His lips sizzle against my neck, shoulders, and wrists.

I’m too tired to fight sleep this time. When the dawn comes, it does so quietly, with Reed and I tangled together beneath the sheets.

Chapter sixteen

Petra

The golden ray ofmorning light through the gap in the curtains signals that it’s time to go. Saying goodbye when Reed hits the road will only be awkward. There’s no need to get emotional or wax poetic, even if talking with him is as easy as if I’ve known him my whole life.

I sneak out of bed and tiptoe to the bathroom. After I wash my hands and replace Reed’s sleep shirt with my blouse, there’s a knock on the door. Reed doesn’t wait for an answer before he opens it. He leans against the door jamb, eyes raking over my half-dressed form. “Are you going to make a habit of leaving while I’m asleep?”

“Yes.” I reach for my pants, but Reed tugs them out of my hands.

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your figure in clothes, but your bare legs are fantastic.” I blush as he pulls me in close, smoothing his palms down my thighs. “Are you running out on me to meet another man?”

“What?”

He laughs, the creases from his eyes blending with the creases from his pillowcase. He makes the most ridiculous things attractive. “I meant Jesus. It’s Sunday, and your dad wanted you to be a nun. Are you headed to church?” It shouldn’t warm me all over that he listened—and remembered—but it does. “I’ve gotten out of the habit, but I grew up a nice Baptist boy and say my fair share of prayers. I’d go with you, if you wanted.”

I shake my head, digesting this new piece of Reed. The more I know, the less his puzzle pieces fit together—as if I’m forcingthem together on a tabletop when he’s a sphere. “You’re a better Christian than me. I’m not going to Mass. I’ve been angry with God for a long time.”

“I see.” Reed wraps his arms around my waist, pressing us together. He’s deliciously warm from sleep. “Sounds like you’re still a believer, so what did he do to deserve the cold shoulder?”

Reed. Always pushing. Digging into my soul like a tweezer to discover what’s infecting me. “That’s between me and him.”

Reed hums, raking his fingers through my mess of hair. “I’ll leave it be. But just because you’re not talking to him doesn’t mean he’s stopped caring for you, Pet.” I don’t respond. Can’t respond, without delving into secrets I can’t handle. In the pause, his gaze burns into me, soft, hard, and hot all at once. The air grows heavy between us until I’m breathless. “And just because you push me away doesn’t mean I’ll do the same. But I’ll let you finish dressing.”

He unwinds from me, and his absence leaves me cold. I quietly retake my space, leaving our intimate moments in the dark where they belong. Once I dress, I see five texts from Livi, all asking about my not-date that turned into more of a date-date, considering how quickly he got me naked.

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