Page 68 of Can't Take My Eyes Off You

‘Fuck-ing hell,’ she groans. ‘Why did I drink so mu—’ She lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine. ‘Holy tits.’ She drops her hand from her head, a smile slowly filling her face. ‘I didn’t dream it.’

She looks genuinely happy to see me. My heart could probably light the whole damn world right now. Based on her shock that I’m standing in front of her, I’m willing to bet she doesn’t remember everything that happened last night.

‘You didn’t dream it, but do you regret it?’

Her eyes grow wide with my question. ‘Did we…’ She points back at the bed, glances down at herself, then back up at me, my heart slowing as she takes her time looking me over, motioning between us.

‘No,’ I tell her with a laugh. God, she’s cute. ‘We weren’t sexually active,’ I say obnoxiously. ‘But wedidsleep together. My plan was to let you sleep off the tequila last night, alone, but you asked me to stay.’

‘Iaskedyou to stay?’

I nod. ‘And hold you like I used to, because I always knew how to make you feel better. Your words.’

‘So you—’

‘Couldn’t possibly say no to that,’ I say, cutting her off. ‘So, I did exactly that, just a lot less handsy than previous days, and that’s it.’ I turn, walking away from her and back to the kitchen like it’s no big deal. She follows.

‘No clothes came off?’

‘I literally wore this,’ I say, motioning over me. ‘Butyou, on the other hand, happily stripped right in front of me, completely topless at one point, wearing the skimpiest pair of panties I’ve ever seen, and one of my old T-shirts that you took your sweet time putting on. Tempted as I was after that, Ijustheld you.’

A shy smile creeps across her face. ‘Hang on,’ she says, veering into her bathroom, never closing the door behind her, just sitting down and peeing right in front of me.

I go back to the stove where every burner is in use, all to make sure she doesn’t have a hangover from hell and starts her day off right.

‘I slept with Alex,’ she says when she emerges from the bathroom like she’s throwing all her guilt onto the counter to deal with. Her frown says she’s disappointed with herself.

Boner. Killer.

‘And I slept with Danika,’ I admit.

She frowns. ‘Was it… good?’

I laugh. ‘Not even a little bit. My heart was hiding and I was usually drunk as a skunk but it happened. Are you mad?’

‘Are you mad about Alex?’

I shrug. ‘I mean,technically, we were on a break,’ I joke, quoting one of the scenes she hates the most fromFriends. ‘We hadn’t seen one another in a long time by the time either of us attempted to move on so I can’t be mad. Areyoumad?’

‘We were broken up; I couldn’t be mad. But I’ll admit, I was jealous as hell. I’ll be happy if I never hear her name again.’ She meanders to a stool, sitting down, then laying her head on the counter with a thud. ‘Ouch.’

‘That I can make happen,’ I tell her. ‘Here.’ I hand her water and the bottle of Tylenol I found in her bathroom earlier. ‘Drink this and take these. I’m working on the hangover cure that took me years to perfect. Crispy, greasy bacon, heavily buttered slightly burned toast, and scrambled eggs.’

‘Seems like I’m in good hands, considering you are the hangover king,’ she says into the counter before lifting her head and swallowing down a couple of Tylenol.

‘Wasthe hangover king,’ I correct her. ‘Tell me you at least remembersomeof our conversation last night?’

‘Things are slowly coming back to me. Just trying to process all of it.’ After a few silent moments of her nursing her headache with her fingers on her temples, she speaks. ‘Did you ever tell her you loved her?’

‘No,’ I say with a chuckle. ‘Did you?’ I’m afraid to turn around in case her answer is yes.

‘Never,’ she says.

‘So, we can both breathe a sigh of relief that our hearts never let us truly move on,’ I say, handing her steaming-hot coffee in a mug I found deep in the back of the cabinet that says ‘Waiting on Prince Charming…’ but someone crossed out the ‘Charming’ and in its place is her least favorite prince’s name. Willy. I’d bet money Bryce is behind this and if so, thanks from the bottom of my heart, bro.

She smiles sweetly, forcing it away quickly as her eyes drop to her coffee mug. ‘I stillhavethis? Ugh,’ she groans. ‘Bianca swore it was in the donation box last year with the rest of your stuff you left here. I got rid of all of it because I couldn’t stand looking at it anymore.’

I glance around the room, seeing many things of mine still in her possession. She follows my line of sight, her gaze stopping on the ridiculousMario Karttrophy she won last time and still has displayed on her shelves full of books arranged by color.

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