Page 37 of Afterglow
“More than I should.”
“What does that mean?”
MaybeIhave a concussion.
“Nothing.” He rubs the back of his neck. “You should probably take it easy.”
“Um, yeah, probably.”
“Okay, well. Good night.”
“Good night.” My ass drops to the mattress.
Well, that was anticlimactic.
I laze in bed and replay the end of the evening a dozen times early the next morning before grabbing my phone.
Me
I had a great time last night
Dreamboat
I did too
Me
It was looking dicey for a second with the washroom snafu
Me
Thanks for rescuing me
I send him a GIF of Olive Oyl swooning with the caption, “My hero!”
Me
Congrats on a successful first date for both of us
A soft ding peals out beyond my door. Is he in the living room? I slink down from the mattress and tiptoe to the door, pressing an ear to it. No movement. Seems like the coast is clear. The door opens with a creak. Fletch sits on the couch facing my bedroom door.
“Oh, morning.”
“Morning.”
My cautious steps quicken as I near him, overeager to spill my heart out, but he beats me to it.
“I have to tell you something.”
Heart thumping in my throat, I murmur, “Yeah?”
“Last night…holding your hand. It felt…”
“…Right?” I finish the sentence for him, hoping he agrees and that I didn’t imagine it all.
He puffs out a breath, relieved. “Yeah, it felt right. It felt safe.”
I pinch back a smile. “It felt like that for me, too.”
