Page 31 of Falling For The Billionaire Rockstar

I let out a heavy sigh, one less person to deal with. I was not sure how I was going to explain to her why I had spent the night in her best friend’s room.

I walked into the kitchen, hoping to find a remedy for my headache. I searched through the kitchen till I found all the ingredients I needed to make a quick hangover soup.

By the time I was done, Olivia walked into the kitchen, an oversized shirt draped over her small figure. She walked with her eyes almost closed, and I knew she was in pain.

Her eyes widened as she saw me, and she wrapped her hands around herself. “You’re still here?”

I chuckled. “Should I have left?”

She blinked, realizing how it sounded. “No, no. It’s just, when I didn’t see you, I thought . . .” she trailed off, her cheeks flushing.

I poured some soup into a dish and handed it to her. “Here, it will help with the headache.” She looked up at me before reaching for it. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She sat in front of the kitchen island and began to drink her soup. I poured myself a plate and sat opposite her. We ate in silence, the sound of our slurping filling the tense air between us.

I sighed deeply. “So, about last night.”

She looked up sharply as if she had been holding her breath, waiting for me to speak.

“I just want you to know that, although I don’t regret doing what we did, that was not my intention when I led you home yesterday,” I said.

She nodded, saying, “Yeah, I mean, you’re my best friend’s brother. I know you were just looking after me.”

I added, “Exactly. We both had a little too much to drink, and things got steamy between us.”

She took a spoonful of her soup. “So, it’s never happening again, right?” There was a hesitation in her voice, and I knew she wanted me to say it would just as badly as I wanted to.

But we were both adults. We had to take responsibility for our actions and not ignore the consequences. So, as much as I wanted to reach across the table and pull her into another steamy kiss, I knew there was only one right thing to do. “No, it won’t,” I replied.

She nodded. “All right then.”

“And you don’t have to worry about Samantha. I’ll tell her,” I said.

Olivia offered me a small smile, the kind a mother would offer an overzealous child.

“She’s my sister. I’m pretty sure it would be less awkward coming from me.” I let out a sigh as I chuckled before nodding.

“Great, I had absolutely no idea how I was going to tell her,” she said, giggling lightly before returning her attention to her soup. “You said you don’t regret it?”

“Not a single moment of it,” I replied.

She smiled as she held my gaze, our eyes sending secret messages to each other, messages too heavy for words.

I nodded at her plate. “You would want to finish that before it gets cold.”

She blinked before looking down at her soup as she tried to hide her reddening cheeks. “It’s a really good soup.”

“It’s my dad’s recipe.”

She looked up at me in surprise. “Your dad taught you how to make hangover soup?”

“Funny story. When we were teens, Sam and I would sneak out and go to parties a lot. This one time, we got so drunk and woke up the next day feeling like we had slammed our heads into a truck. My dad noticed and took us to the kitchen while my mom was still busy with other chores, and he made us pay him five dollars each to learn how to make the soup.”

“Did you pay?”

“It was that or let our mom find out, and neither of us wanted that. Hangover soup was the first thing I ever learned to make.”

She chuckled. “Your dad sounds amazing.”

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