Page 33 of Taking It To Overtime
The Staycation Expresshasn’t updated its interior décor since I last stepped foot inside, and even then it was dated; dark headboards with cookie cutter scroll work, orange floral bedspreads, moss green carpet, and mustard walls. The room is clean, the scent of lemon polish filling my nostrils as I take a deep inhale.
I lean my hip against the doorway and watch Vera’s reflection kick off her shoes and set her bag on the little table. I’m not sure what I expect, maybe a look of disgust at her surroundings, or a long-suffering sigh, but it isn’t for her to flop backward across the bed, hair fanning out around her ears. Her eyes are closed and her shorts are frying the synapses in my brain, but even I know you can’t just walk into Hermes and buy that bag.
“I can book my own room,” I say, and have to clear my throat halfway through as Vera reaches her arms over her head and stretches.
My eyes trace the length of her neck and down over the high-necked top to the inches of pale skin above the waistband of her shorts. I’m a pervert, a lecher, a creep who needs to learn to keep his eyes down and off the model, but it’s hard to see her as famous fashion icon Vera Novak instead of my childhood best friend, my girlfriend.
“What?” One green eye pops open to look at me from under dark lashes and my throat is dry as fuck, but I force myself to answer.
“You didn’t really have a say in my being here. And I think we both know I can afford to have my own room.”
There’s a fair chance I could buy the hotel outright, or at least offer a decent sum. I’d have to ask my financial manager. I leave investing and shit to him. Either way, a room is no issue. I shouldn’t even offer. I should just go down to the front desk and talk to the hotelier now.
“I kind of did have a say,” she rolls to her side and props her head on her hand. “It was my idea to pretend we were dating. Jack is pretty quick on his feet. I hadn’t even thought about staying together.” She frowns. “I didn’t think a lot of things through.”
The urge to move closer, to take her into my arms, is right there, pushing at me. It’s like muscle memory kicking it and I have to physically pull my body back. Once upon a time I was the one she turned to when she was upset, uncertain, untethered. I’m not that person anymore.
“He thought of it at the rink.” I offer, “Well, sort of. I didn’t know he was going to volunteer for me to come stay with you.”
Her head tips back as she laughs.
“That does seem like the kind of thing Jack would do, volunteering people.”
I smile too. I can’t help it. Her joy is infectious, a drug, and I might have thought I was clean, but this need has been sitting in my gut, dormant until it caught sight of her again. This is a test of my willpower. I’m supposed to say no.
I failed in the kitchen, sliding my mouth over hers like she had the last available oxygen and I was drowning. It was a mistake to reach for her. The lines of this arrangement are too blurry, too nebulous. We’re both going to get hurt if we don’tthrow up some boundaries and fast. Except… except here I am in her hotel room as she splays across the bed and this feels like another test I’m about to fail.
“It’s on his calendar, right under cause mayhem and give Oakes a headache.”
“You were a shit once too,” she says, and I’m about to refute her claim when she shakes her head. “Nope, can’t even pretend with that one. You were actually a really stoic teenager. I feel like that hasn’t changed much.”
“Should I book another room?”Tell me no.I’ll show you what hasn’t changed.I hip check my inner voice.
Vera shakes her head. “There’s two beds here. No need to go out of your way unless you want to.”
If I’d wanted to, I’d have already done it, but I don’t say that.
“Am I supposed to hate you?”
Her question catches me off guard and knocks the air out of my lungs.
“Do you?” I hold my breath as she looks me up and down. I swear I can feel her gaze slipping into my actual pores, burrowing beneath my skin.
“It would be easier if I did.” She sits up, patting the bed next to her. My body moves to her on autopilot. When I settle on the mattress, the dip from my weight slides her against my hip. “It feels like it’s an unwritten rule that you’re supposed to hate your exes, right? Especially the ones who break your heart.”
My heart is splintering into shards of glass, lethal and tiny and sharp. Green eyes find mine.
“Maybe it’s the years before our relationship that change things. I don’t think I could hate you if I tried.” Her,I tried,is silent, but I can read between the lines. “It took a while to realize you did the right thing stepping away.”
“And it worked,” I tell both of us. “You followed your dream to the west coast, and I…”
“You got drafted.” She pokes me in the side. “I always knew you would.”
Just like I knew she’d make something of herself, as long as I got out of her way. That sounds conceited, but it was what I thought at seventeen. I truly believed I had to let her go to give her a chance at her dreams. Sixteen years later, the difference now is that Ineedto believe it. I can’t let myself wonder if we could have had it all. Together.
“I think,” she breaks me out of my thoughts, “this would be easier if we actually made some ground rules.”
Easier? For who?
