Page 35 of Don't Fall

Until.

“Michael?”

I freeze. So does Lane. Whoever was knocking is no longer outside.

“Was that Jules?” I hiss.

“Does she have a fucking key, too?” he hisses back.

“No!” But Drea would have let her in.

I can hear her moving toward the bedroom, calling him again in her sultry, sing-songy voice. “Yoo-hoo, Michael? Are you in here?”

I know she must be within inches of the door when Lane hurries to spin me back toward the bed while he makes a mad dash for the door, still wearing his sheet and nothing else.

I watch, somewhat stunned, as he opens the door just enough to look out while keeping me and the rest of the room hidden.

“Hey!” he greets her, sounding about as disheveled as he looks.

“Well, hello there, handsome. I should surprise you first thing in the morning more often,” she teases and I can only imagine the places her fingers are traveling as she says it.

“Um, I’m actually not that big on surprises,” he jokes while still getting the point across. “Not much of a morning person either.”

She giggles. “Oh, trust me. I could fix that.”

Pretty sure I can taste last night’s coffee after that one.

“I’m actually just getting ready for work, so...” he lets the words linger. When she doesn’t fill in the blank, he takes a more direct approach. “Was there something you needed from me?”

“More like there’s something you need from me,” she chirps.

Lane laughs uncomfortable and I’m not sure if it’s because of the way she’s coming onto him or rather because I’m right here, listening to it all. “Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” I might not be able to see her for myself, but I’ve known Jules long enough to conjure up a pretty solid visual of what’s happening right now. Her fingertip is likely tracing loopty-loops on his chest while she licks her lips and flutters her lashes in some dramatic yet flirtatious fashion, all skills I’ve never been able to master and never once cared to until this very moment.

“Jules,” he says, his patience clearly waning.

“Alright, you big grump,” she teases in a familiar way that seems odd given they hardly know each other. “Here. You forgot your phone last night.”

“Oh.” His body stiffens. “Thanks.”

And the coffee I was gagging on seconds ago now lands like a brick in my stomach. He lied. He was with her last night. Before he was with me. No wonder he has nothing to regret. Who would regret two women in one night?! Guys everywhere will probably be high-fiving him all day.

I feel like such an idiot.

Drowning in a blur of conversations and images of Lane and Jules, I scramble to retrieve all the items I so carelessly dropped when I let him weave me into his charming web of bullshit the first time this morning.

Somewhere in the distance I can hear the door close and Lane say my name, but I don’t react to any of it. Not until his hand lands on my arm to stop me.

I spin around to face him, furious. “Let go of me.”

“Not until you listen.”

“No, I’ve heard enough, thank you.”

“Tess,” he tries again, this time his tone is softer, more pleading.

“Don’t. You know what, it’s fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. Jules, I’m sure, is more than fine. It’s all good. We all got what we came here for.”

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