Page 91 of Meet Cute Reboot

The quilt has fallen to her waist. I lean over and gingerly grasp the binding and pull it up to her shoulders. She stirs. Opens her eyes.

“Hey, sleepy,” I whisper.

Cassie

Luke hovers over me, his model features defying reality. No one should be this handsome. The low light casts shadows in thehollows of his cheeks, deepens the intensity of his brown eyes, draws highlights on his cheekbones and perfectly sculpted chin. I don’t know, maybe it’s the wine, but I’ve never seen him like this—so open and vulnerable.

I reach around his neck and pull his face toward mine. He offers no resistance, willingly closing the space between us. Our lips touch and my blood becomes warm, my heart readily pumping it through my arms, into my fingers, to the tips of my toes. Luke’s kisses have always made me come undone, but this redefines “unraveling.”

I pull myself upright and Luke sits in the space I created. We grasp each other like the floor beneath us is going to crumble and drop away, but then Luke pulls away. He places his hands on my shoulders.

“You’re tipsy,” he says.

I assess my level of inebriation. Yes, my brain is spinning, twirling with reckless abandon like a joyful ballerina, but I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or Luke’s lips. I don’t care. “No, I’m not.” My voice is raspy.

“You’re not in your right mind,” Luke says. “I should go.”

As he stands, gravity presses heavily against me. My body stops floating and drops to the couch with a disorienting thud. “Don’t go,” is all I can manage.

Luke leans over, kisses me on the forehead. “Get some sleep, Cassie.” And then he heads out the door.

Chapter 18

Cassie

I cringe the moment I open my eyes. I’m in my bed. My memory of crawling up here is fuzzy, but I remember enough about my make-out session with Luke to wonder what in the world came over me.

I roll over and groan. Sunlight falls on the front of the building at this hour, my bedroom window out of its direct onslaught. Still, the brightness bouncing off my white comforter is too much for my eyes. How can I have a hangover after only two glasses of wine? I was always a lightweight, but now it’s times ten.

As I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, my head swims. There’s literally a fishbowl in my brain holding a dozen goldfish. As blood surges into my temples, I feel the thrum of my heart, each pump making my vision wobble. The pain comes next, radiating through my frontal lobes at even intervals.

Pudge hops onto the bed and perches on my lap. Together we stare at our reflections in my full-length mirror. I’m glad Luke isn’t seeing me like this, with my fuzzy mouth, the pillow printson my cheek, and my hair that looks like I was just struck by lightning.

“Why did you let me drink wine?” I ask while scratching behind Pudge’s ears. She lifts her nose and I oblige with some scratches under her chin. “Oh, really? I was on my own the second I decided to let Luke into my apartment? That’s how you are?”

Pudge chirps and then hops off my lap. I guess I wasn’t petting her right.

I tried to lose myself in work yesterday, tried not to think about Luke coming over, tried not to notice the tickle of excitement I felt in my stomach at the prospect of having him all to myself, alone without an internet audience. The wine was a lifeline, a buoy against the waves of emotions that crashed over me the moment he crossed the threshold, part of me wanting to forgive him, the other part never wanting to forget, never wanting to absolve him. And it worked. The wine relaxed me, steadied me, buffered the waves of attraction that intermingled with waves of anger when he relayed the details of his encounter with Rose. Unfortunately, it worked too well.

I danced with him? I let him take me in his arms, our hips swaying in tandem? And then I pulled his face toward mine.Imade the move and kissed those irresistible lips.

I anchor my palms on the mattress and wait for a wave of nausea to subside, not at the memory of kissing Luke, but at the surge of emotions the thought evokes. And, oh yeah, the hangover. That’s still real.

Convinced my stomach is going to stay put, I push off my bed and hobble down the stairs, clutching the railing for dear life. Coffee, water, shower. That’s what I need. A little coffee, a lot of water, and a long shower.

I cross over to my Keurig and pop a fresh pod into the top, make sure it has enough water, and grab a mug to catch thecoffee. As I head to the fridge to fill a glass with water, my eyes graze the microwave. It’s already eleven thirty. I never sleep this late.

With a fresh glass of water in one hand and the hot mug of coffee in the other, I round the island and plop onto a barstool. A piece of paper sits on the butcher block with purple writing on it. I grab it and read. It’s from Luke. He was going to leave quietly last night and let me sleep.

I smile at the note. Luke is trying hard. He wants to prove he’s changed. That he’s safe. I’m still not sure I believe it. I’m also not sure I’ll act in my best interest if he gives me evidence that he hasn’t changed. After our encounter last night, I might be the stupid girl who thinks maybe... Maybe this time I can change him, when the truth is, I simply can’t resist him.

My smile reverses into a decisive frown. I can’t be that girl. If he gives me any indication that his cheating days aren’t over, I mean,anyindication, I’m out. Fun time’s over.

I crumple Luke’s note and toss it toward the trashcan. It bounces off the wall and falls to the wood floor. I stare at it while I sip my coffee.

He’s been an absolute gentleman since we re-entered each other’s lives. Strike that. Since he forced his way into my life in an underhanded, conniving way. Can’t forget that. Or can I? I groan. The sound reverberates against my skull and ratchets up my pain level.

I could really use some Tylenol, but it would require moving and I’m not ready to do that quite yet. So, I sit and sip and wish I had my phone for entertainment. I have no idea where it is, probably on the couch, the same couch where I clutched Luke’s biceps like he was going to spiral into the fifth dimension, away from me once again, like I had to cling to him for one last desperate kiss.

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