Page 40 of By His Play

My mouth opens and closes, but no words spill free.

“Thank you for the bath. It helped.”

“It was my mom,” I explain.

“It doesn’t matter. Turn around, please,” she demands before glaring at me over her shoulder.

Doing as I’m told, I spin on the balls of my feet.

She’s already got her back to me; I can’t see anything.

Rolling my eyes at her over-the-top reaction, movement to my left catches my eye.

The mirror on her vanity.

I should look away. I know I should.

But…I can’t.

I also can’t breathe properly as I stare at her.

My heart, though, is in overdrive.

She really is beautiful.

As soon as she tugs her tank into place, I rip my eyes away and stare at the cream wall ahead of me, trying to ignore the guilt that wants to swallow me whole for watching my best friend get dressed.

“Okay,” she says, and I spin back to find her crawling into bed.

“She’s already planned the whole thing,” I explain.

“Who has?” she asks, clearly lost in her thoughts.

“My mom. She believed it and has spent the day planning everything.”

“Oh,” she breathes, a deep frown between her brows. “That’s…weird.”

“Yeah, well. You’ve met my mom, right?”

“Hmm,” she mumbles, and she sinks lower into the covers.

“Shit, I was going to make you a hot chocolate.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers before falling silent.

I don’t know if she’s fallen asleep or if she’s pretending.

Either way, I stand there at the end of her bed, watching her like a creep.

Every other night I’ve been here, I’ve slept with her. But everything feels different today.

I glance at the door, trying to decide what to do.

Ultimately, I turn away from her and close her door to give her some space.

I make myself a drink before taking it to the guest room.

Finding a series on Netflix, I rest against the headboard and grab my cell.

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