Page 33 of The Best Book Boyfriend
Yes, the wine, blame the wine.“I’m sorry, I think I had too much to drink too. I would never have done that otherwise.”
Luke hangs his head and pushes his fingers up behind his glasses. “I’m so sorry, Kara. I really never intended to take advantage of you.”
“Oh God, no. Trust me, if anyone was taking advantage of anyone, it was me. You did nothing inappropriate. That was—”Incredible? Terrifying? The dirtiest thing I’ve ever done?“I don’t really know how to explain what that was,” I say, gesturing at both ends of the sofa. “But it was 100% consensual. Don’t worry about that.”
I laugh awkwardly, and we find ourselves just staring at each other.
“Do you want me to walk you back? Or you can sleep in my spare room? It’s all set up for guests.”
I nod again. Why am I doing so much bloody nodding? “OK,” I croak out.
“You’ll stay?” More idiot nodding. I’m not sure I’ve ever actually been speechless before. “OK, let me show you where everything is.”
He stands and helps me to my feet, then leads me through the hallway and up the stairs with a gentle grasp of my elbow. At the top of the stairs we turn the corner and he tells me which room is his, which is the bathroom, and then points to the guest room at the end of the hall. I follow his directions.What is happening? Just go home you dickhead.
“Kara, are you OK?” I stand awkwardly next to the spare bed, Luke leans against the doorframe like a Sex God, and I still can’t speak. I just nod some more while he turns on the bedside light and pulls some spare clothes from the cupboard. “I have to ask, how the hell did you manage to sit through dinner with me while you were thinking of all that?”
Kill me now. Vapourise me. Float me off this planet.
“I’ve read a lot of smut in public.” I roll my eyes and bite the inside of my cheek, thinking I might start crying again. “So I’m pretty well practised at hiding my horniness.”
“OK. Good to know you’re stealthy,” he smirks.So fucking smirking is horny now, is it?“We should probably get some sleep. I’ll leave you to it but give me a shout if you need anything. Goodnight Kara.”
He closes the door gently behind him, and I silently scream into a pillow. Why have I said yes to staying over? Why am I getting changed? I need to get my shameful self out of here. I’ll never be able to sleep, though these covers are awfully inviting, and when I climb under them and sink into the mattress, I quickly prove myself wrong.
When I wake up, I find myself curled into a ball in the middle of Luke’s spare bed, wearing a t-shirt he’d offered me. This room is sparse, but the mattress is comfy and his bedding is soft and airy. When I check the time I can’t believe it’s already 8am. I’ve not slept this late in months, and somehow I’ve also slept right through, avoiding the usual 3-4am existentialam-I-completely-unlovablecrisis.
Two thoughts keep running through my head:
1. I read Luke entirely wrongly. I thought this was a date, but then he told me he can’t imagine himself in a relationship with anyone else, so clearly that wasn’t the case.
2. Despite that, I fingered myself on his sofa and then cried about it. And he got off too. Which means this is a sex thing, and I don’t want to be anyone’sjust a sex thing.
I hope my next breath is my last because I don’t want to be in a world where I have to face him and acknowledge thatthathappened. Why did I even stay over? I could definitely have taken a taxi home where I’d have cried a bit more, had another orgasm thinking about his stomach, and fallen asleep reading a book. Hopefully, he’s still asleep and I can sneak out of here without an awkward goodbye. I can always text him later and tell him I had a meeting or something.
After getting dressed, I tiptoe down the hall and peek over the bannister, but I can’t hear any movement. I pause when I notice the framed photo at the top of the stairs. His wedding day.
Though he’s never really described her to me, Heather is just as beautiful as I imagined. A short blonde bob beneath her flowing veil, she has a gorgeous smile, and Luke looks so handsome in his suit. There is so much love and sadness in this one photo.
Downstairs, I sneak into the kitchen to retrieve my book journal, and that’s when I see him. Stretched out on the sofa, phone in hand, in the exact spot where I defiled our friendship last night. No way I’m getting out of here unnoticed.
“Good morning,” I whisper, not wanting to scare him.
“Shhh, I’m just getting to a good bit.” I watch his face and notice how his eyes are scanning back and forth. He’s not scrolling, he’s side swiping. Reading.
“What are you reading?”
“Love To Loathe You.”
What. The. Fuck. “Are you serious?”
“You told me I had to read it, so I’m reading it. I downloaded it as soon as you went to bed.”
“Have you been awake all night?”
“No, but it took me a while to nod off and then I woke up early. Did you sleep OK?”
“Yes, really well, actually.” He’s still looking at his phone, but I can see him smiling in the reflection on the window.
