Page 12 of Whimsical Ink

I snag my bag and place a hand on her lower back to urge her upstairs. Away from everyone so I can break the news to her. Can’t believe I forgot. She’s about to hate me. My mind is spiralling too much to enjoy the feeling of my hand on her.

We reach the next floor and I take us left.

“Where am I sleeping?” she asks, and she must be too tired to realise, to not have clicked why we’re heading in the same direction. I remove my hand from her when I start sweating.

“Please don’t hate me.” I open the last door in the hallway and she steps inside.

She turns, and her eyes narrow when I follow her inside and shut the door quietly. “Why are you in here?”

I run a hand through my hair. “This is my room.”

“Okay, so why am I here? Where’s mine?”

I stay silent and wait as she connects the dots. And I know exactly when she does. Her lips turn down and she frowns, glances around the room, lands on me again, and gasps.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“Daniel,” she hisses. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think this far. I was too focused on getting you here. I forgot.” My words jumble together and my mouth is dry. Fuck. Why didn’t I organise something else? Or book our own place to give us some space.

“You forgot? How did you not realise?”

“I was distracted. I’m sorry. I’ll sleep on the floor or in the bathroom if you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

She huffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to make you do that. Just stay on your side, you dick.” She strides to the small attached bathroom, but whips around to face me. “And I swear to god, tomorrow better be the best birthday ever or I will steal your car and strand you here with your family.”

And with that, she slams the door shut and leaves me in the bedroom we’re both sleeping in tonight. In the same bed.

Double shit.

If I don’t sleep on the edge of the bed, away from her, I’ll drag her into my arms and wrap around her like the octopus she tattooed on me. Damn it.

I change while she’s in the bathroom and decide to wear a T-shirt, hoping it will make her more comfortable.

A few minutes later, she returns fresh-faced with her hair braided, but still in her shorts and top.

She stares at me perplexed. “Did you pack my bag?”

“No, Ella did. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” She clears her throat. “She packed lingerie.” Maddy holds up a sheer red lacy thing.

I swallow thickly. “Oh.”

Must avert gaze before I imagine her in it with my hand fingering the strap, tugging it down her shoulder and revealing her nipples. Too late. Are they pink? Brown? Rosy? I don’t care.

“I don’t think our friendship is quite at the level of sheer lingerie yet, sweetie. Somehow, I doubt you’d want to see it.” She rolls her eyes and either doesn’t hear me or ignores my groan. “Can I borrow one of your shirts?”

“Of course you can.” I rifle through my bag to find the softest T-shirt I brought so it’s not rough on her skin.

I hand it to her and she closes the door again, leaving me too much time to imagine her in lingerie. At least Ollie isn’t here.

She strides into the room with her fresh face and braid, with the addition of my black T-shirt covering her to her thighs. Soft and cosy, as if we were a real couple getting ready for bed together. But if we were a real couple, I’d haul her on top of me, spin us around, and move down her thighs to give her a different birthday present than I’m planning.

That’s enough daydreaming tonight. I avoid her eyes as she gets under the covers and head to the bathroom. Seeing her products beside mine on the basin doesn’t help.

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