Page 102 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
“You tired?” he asks, his voice low and warm.
I nod, the word coming out on another yawn. “Kinda.”
“Come to bed.”
It’s an invitation, nothing more. No heat, no teasing, just a soft expectant look. He stands and stretches. I feel like I might vibrate right out of my skin.
He heads to the massive bedroom. I follow him, heart hammering, pulse going a million miles an hour. The covers are crisp and inviting. I slide under them, barely even getting the lights turned out first.
I know this isn’t real life. But for once, I want to see what it feels like to be someone’s first choice. Someone worth breaking the rules for.
When he pulls me into his arms, I go willingly. His body is warm and solid against mine. I already know I’m in trouble.
I tell myself it’s just for now, just one night where we can forget about everything waiting for us back home, one chance to let our guards down and pretend none of it matters.
The way we tangle around each other is instinctive, like we both know this is something we shouldn’t be doing, but I’m not brave enough to pull away.
Ryan doesn’t give me any reason to. He holds me close. I fit myself against him like we belong, like we’ve always belonged. We don’t talk about what this is.
We don’t say the word “feelings.”
Just a comforting, beat-heavy silence and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
I listen to it like it might stop at any moment, but it never does. Eventually, I fall asleep.
I sleep better than I have in months. Maybe ever.
When I wake up, light is spilling over the mountains. Ryan hasn’t let me go. I haven’t moved away. He’s still wrapped around me, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he loosens his hold.
When I wake up to him tangled around me like he belongs there, I don’t question it. Not yet.
But I just know that tomorrow morning, things will be back to normal. I just don’t know that I’ll be the same girl when dawn breaks.
twenty-eight
WREN
We don’t leavethe hotel room all morning. We don’t even think about leaving. Who cares about the rest of the world when you’ve got a king-sized bed, room service, and a morning like this?
It’s a bubble for two, where the only important thing is how close we can be, how many times lips can meet before they go numb, and which limbs can tangle together in the most delicious knot. It starts with lazy kisses and sleepy bodies meshed together. My face is tucked into Ryan’s chest while he sleep-mumbles something unintelligible and rolls us over, squeezing me so tight I giggle into his chest.
Then his lips find my neck. His weight presses me into the mattress. I forget how to breathe. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe this is still happening. I can’t believe time can pass like this, hours slipping away like they belong to someone else.
Eventually, the real world starts to elbow its way back into focus. I finally pull myself out of bed and shuffle toward the bathroom, though I don’t want to be away from Ryan for even a second. My legs feel like Jell-O.
My hair looks like a cautionary tale of what happens when you spend hours tangled up with a man like him. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see the small dark hickey blooming under my collarbone.
A reminder and a promise that this morning was not some cruel delirium. Giddy and dazed, I splash cold water on my face until I’m sure I’m fully awake, then I stumble back out of the bathroom.
Ryan’s already made himself busy ordering food. He’s still shirtless, sitting cross-legged on the bed like he owns the world, like he owns this moment, his casual confidence almost enough to make me blush all over again.
“I thought you’d be hungry,” he says.
As if breakfast in bed is the most normal thing in the world. As if this whole morning is just another morning for us. As if this is what normal looks like for Ryan and me.
“I’m starving,” I admit. I crawl back under the covers, still wrapped in his hoodie, still soaking up his warmth.
It doesn’t take long for room service to arrive. He uncovers a stack of pancakes with an exaggerated flourish and hands me a fork. “You want syrup on or around?”
