Page 46 of Friend Me

14

I wokein the gray light of dawn, warm and safe. But it wasn’t my pillow under my cheek; it was someone else’s skin.

Oh. My. God. What had I done?

I lifted my head, and my cheek came away from Tyler’s chest with a soft sucking sound. I stared at the expanse of skin before me. A tattoo marked his golden shoulder, a curved V with a little pentagon on one end and a triangle on the other. It looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t figure out what a V on Tyler’s shoulder would signify. Maybe it was a Y for Young? Or had he started a tattoo that actually looked like something and had second thoughts?

He sighed and stretched his other arm back behind the pillow. The arm that wasn’t snug around my waist. My—oh, thank Gregor Mendel—fully clothed waist. Although I’d sprawled over his chest, my lower half was still on top of the comforter. Some nurse I’d been. I’d fallen asleep on top of my patient.

By the faint light coming in through the blinds, I took a second to admire the curve of his triceps, the flat plane of his pectorals, the ridges of his abdominals. For someone who sat at a desk all day, he had a lot of muscles going on. But I kept my fingers curled into my palms. Friends didn’t touch friends’ naked chests. And they certainly didn’t peek under the sheet that covered his lower half.

But I didn’t have to peek to see that the lower half was equally…surprising. Not that I was surprised Tyler had a penis. Of course he did. I’d just never had a reason to think about it before. Until this morning, when his erection made a tent under the sheet big enough for—

I shut my eyes. But they flew open again. The soft jersey sheets clung to him, outlining the shape in graphic detail. I swallowed hard and dragged my gaze away.

The furnishings in his bedroom were spartan: a dresser and a single nightstand with his glasses resting next to a clock, its LED display telling me it was well after six.Crap.It was Friday, Cooper had an early meeting, and I needed to get to the office.

I slid carefully out from underneath his arm. A frown crossed his face, and I moved the hand that had been on my back onto his stomach. He murmured, “Princess,” and I froze, waiting for him to open his eyes, but he didn’t. No time to wake him; besides, after his allergy attack, he needed the rest. Instead, I eased myself off the bed and tiptoed out into the living room.

I spotted my handbag on the floor by the door where I’d dropped it during last night’s mad dash for the epinephrine. I dug out my phone, hoping Tyler’s clock had been wrong about the time, but it was half past six. No time to go home and change. I’d be stuck wearing yesterday’s clothes to work. While I ordered an Uber, I tugged at my bra to dig the underwire out of the gouge it’d made in the side of my boob while I’d slept. Ouch.

Where had I dropped my coat? I circled the small room until the rosy light filtering in from the window illuminated a splotch of light fabric against the dark sofa. I walked over to grab it off the cushion, but a hiss startled me, making me snatch my hand back. The corner of my blush-pink coat peeked out from under a lump of dove-gray fluff.

Malevolent blue eyes—they were almost the same color as Cooper’s—blinked at me from a dark gray face. It hissed at me again. Tyler had a…cat? One who, apparently, hated me just as much as Tigger did. Had I been a cat-abuser in a previous life? A dog? And how did I not know my friend had a cat?

“Pretty kitty,” I whispered. “C’mere.” I beckoned toward myself. The cat’s stare didn’t leave my face. “Shh. It’s okay.” I didn’t know if I was talking to myself or the cat. I stretched a tentative hand toward the corner of my coat. The cat growled, and I tucked my hand against my wrinkled blouse. Nope. My coat wasn’t worth the loss of my typing fingers.

A rough voice came from behind me. “Morning.”

“Hey.” He was still shirtless, wearing only last night’s jeans, unbelted and drooping low on his waist. Lightning-fast, I averted my gaze. “I have an early meeting, and your cat’s holding my coat hostage. Can you—?”

“Oh. Sorry. Sure.” He scooped up the cat, and I plucked my coat off the sofa.

“Thanks.”

“This is Subha. She’s pretty laid-back.” With one arm, he cuddled the cat against his bare chest, and she purred. I didn’t blame her. He had a comfy chest. And oh-my-sweet-Leonardo-da-Vinci, how sexy was a muscular chest with a fluffy kitty snuggled against it?No.My friend wasnotsexy. Okay, fine, he was, but I wasn’t attracted to him. At all.

“How are you feeling?” His color was better than it had been last night. His lips were pink and no longer blue-tinged.

“Better. Thanks,” he said. When he smiled, the tightness in my chest eased. “Sorry about all the cat hair. Want me to run a roller over it?”

I checked my phone, like time could have miraculously started to run backward. “No time. Cooper’s got an early meeting.”

“Then I guess breakfast’s out, too. Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll drive you.”

“No, thanks. I called an Uber. You should go back to bed.” I fought the urge to go to him, hug him, kiss his cheek. Sure, he was standing there, healthy, and not lying in a hospital bed with a breathing tube. But if I touched him, even if it was only to reassure myself he was okay, I was afraid I’d take more than our friendship allowed.

Keeping my eyes off his bare skin, I shoved my arms into my coat and swung my purse over my shoulder. “See you later.”

I unbolted the door and slipped out. As I ran down the stairs, I tried to forget our panicked race up the stairs the night before. I hadn’t been so scared since Dad fell off that ladder. I was glad I’d been with Tyler last night. Though, if we hadn’t been together, he never would’ve eaten that contaminated ice cream. Next time, I’d watch to make sure the server used a fresh scoop. I’d take better care of my friend.

At the office, I clutched my coat around me and raced past security with a cursory wave.Nothing to see here.Upstairs, I glanced down the hall to Cooper’s office—still dark—grabbed my workout bag, and dashed to Jackson’s private bathroom.

A few minutes later, I was fresh-smelling and reasonably presentable, enough for a Friday at Synergy. I scurried back to my desk, shoved my bag in a drawer, and dropped into my chair just as the elevator dinged and Cooper walked out in his pressed and pomaded perfection.

He did a double-take at my desk. Normally, that would’ve been a good thing. Today I didn’t love the extra attention. He took in my ponytail and “Yoga Girls Are Twisted” T-shirt over yesterday’s rumpled pale-pink skirt.

“Feeling okay, Marlee?”

---