Page 196 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“Like I’m a weirdo.”

“I don’t know how accusing someone of being a weirdo sounds, but it’s not a bad thing that you haven’t had sex with a human in years.”

Grabbing the blanket, I pull it up to my chin. He’s really close to getting my promise toshow himrevoked. “Wow, that did not sound convincing at all.”

“I have an idea.”

“I’m listening.”Fine, I’m hot for him and weak to a good idea.A little desperate as well.

He gets out of bed and searches for his pants. They’re in the living room, but I enjoy the show too much to stop him. “I’ll go upstairs, get a condom, and bring it back down.”

The lack of confidence in his suggestion is unrecognizable. “Why does this sound like an impossible mission?”

“My mom might be awake, and if she is, she’ll want to talk.”

I laugh. One of the biggest problems he’s shared with me is that he has a parent who actually wants to spend time with him. I might be a little jealous of his family being so close, but I also love it. Everyone should feel that comfort of love.

This adventure is sounding fun. “Can I go?”

“No,” he says, throwing his hands in front of him. “Don’t leave this bed.”

Getting out of bed, I head to my closet and yank a little sundress from the hanger. “I want to come.”

“So do I. That’s why I want you to stay just like this.” His hands run over my shoulders and then down to my breasts. Men are so easily distracted. “I’ll be quicker if I’m alone.”

“Come on.” I pull the sundress on over my underwear. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, fun,” he grumbles, pulling on his undershirt. “Do you know where my pants are?”

“Living room next to my shirt.”

He disappears into the other room and then returns with the pants on. Without putting socks on, he slips on his shoes.

“I was surprised to hear your mom ask if I was staying over.”

“I think it’s hard for her to have her boys all grown up, but she tries to respect us as men as well.” His gaze does a once-over on my body, and then he asks, “Ready?”

“Mission retrieve condom is on.” On the way out the door, I slip my flip-flops back on. We take the stairs for convenience and probably because it feels sneakier.

He opens his apartment door slowly and scouts the surroundings on the other side before we enter. Using his hand like a map, he points at the top right quadrant of his palm and then gives me a thumbs-up before we start down the entry hall.

I have no clue what any of it meant, but it was cute, like we’re on the same team and huddling. I really like huddling with Drew.

Pinning himself to the wall around the corner, he then peeks backs and waves me forward. Unfortunately, the flip of my flop against the wood floor is loud, so I kick them off and make a run down the hall on my tiptoes. When I reach him, he bends and gives me a kiss because why the hell not? We’re not actually in any kind of danger.

When we pass the guest room, no light shines from underneath the door, and I whisper, “I think she’s asleep.”

He’s still not satisfied until we’re locked inside his room. “I’ll grab the condom.”

“Grab two or three. Just grab the box. You never know.”

“It’s a bowl.”

Pinned to the back of the door, I ask, “What is?”

“The condoms. I store them in a bowl.”

“Wait, let me get this straight. You have a bowl of condoms?”

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