Page 118 of Until Tomorrow
Panting, I rested my forehead against the ledge of the tub and tried to catch my breath. I melted as the warm water soothed the post-sex high. Logan wrapped an arm around my waist and dragged me with him until I was settled comfortably between his legs. With me against him, he started feeling around the tub to find his glasses, and I helped.
“Crap,” Logan muttered as he found them. I cringed when I saw them. Somehow, one of the lenses had popped out, and the frame had twisted. He sighed as he squinted painfully hard at his glasses. His fingers traced the empty frame. I felt my way around the bottom of the tub with my foot, trying to find the missing lens for him.But then he said six words I never thought I’d hear him say.“I really need to get contacts.”
“Why?” I demanded in surprise. Logan had always hated the idea of contacts. He’d tried them once and didn’t last a day with them. Getting them in and out caused him too much anxiety. That was almost twenty years ago.
“Because I want to see you when I fuck you,” he said simply and set his glasses aside. I stupidly felt a blush creep across my cheeks.Oh, well. I liked that reason.“I don’t have spare glasses though…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your socks match before you leave the house,” I teased.
“Thank you.” He kissed my temple, and the soft hairs of his beard tickled my skin.
“This was a terrible way to cope,” I whispered because both of us were avoiding dealing with feelings.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly. “Want to order takeout and cope again in an hour?”
I laughed, my head falling back against his shoulder. And shamelessly, I nodded.
Chapter 58
Rhett
“Tellmeagainwhywe’re bowling,” I grumped, arms crossed as I stared at him. Elliot glanced up from tying his shoes to scrutinize me. I’d ditched band practice to hang out with him after getting his call. While I’d probably never say it out loud, I liked hanging out with Elliot. He didn’t need a damn thing from me other than someone to vent to, and he only did it if I was comfortable. That option was a two-way street. I liked having that.
Fuck, how long had it been since I’d had a real friend like this?Longer than I wanted to admit. I’d become very good at keeping people at a distance. The guys from the band were great, but I wasn’t particularly close with any of them. It just seemed easier that way.
“I thought this was a better alternative to drinking and asking you to call me sexy names,” he said.
“I think I’d prefer that,” I replied. “At least there was alcohol involved.”
“There’s alcohol here.” Elliot nodded to the crappy little bar in the back corner. It was sketchy as fuck, especially for the inside of a shady bowling alley.
“Who thought mixing alcohol with heavy balls was a good idea?”
“I think it’s a great idea. It usually leads to lighter balls,” he quipped, making me chuckle. Standing, he clapped me on the shoulder. His tone was dead serious as he continued, “Everyone loves lighter balls, Rhett. It’s the best fucking thing for a man.”
“Who lets you out of the house in the morning?” I demanded. He glared at me, I glared at him, we stayed like that until I finally broke away. “All right, I’m getting us beers, you find us balls—bowling balls! Find us some bowling balls.”
“How heavy do you like your balls?” he asked, and I snorted.God, we were off to a great fucking start.Alcohol was only going to add to his golden retriever chaos—a term I fucking learned from him.
“If I’m fucking drinking, don’t make me lift heavy shit,” I told him. “I have boundaries, fucker.”
That made him laugh, and I left him to go buy cheap bowling alley beer. I bought four cups for good measure. I could go back for more.We’d probably need more.
“Strike!” Elliot shouted as I returned, throwing his hands up. But I laughed when the ball missed everything and ended up in the fucking gutter.
“It’s only counts if you hit the fucking pins,” I reminded him.
“Fuck that shit,” he retorted and grabbed a beer. I watched as he downed half of it.Oh, it was that kind of night.“I’m counting it because I can. Drink! We’ve got bowling to do.”
“Bossy little thing,” I replied but downed half the beer because why the fuck not? I was two blocks from my garage. I didn’t need to drive. As I picked the lightest ball possible, I asked, “You going to tell me why we’re moping, cupcake?”
“Nope, not until we’ve bowled a bit.”
I attempted some version of bowling and was promptly reminded of why I never did. The ball rolled straight into the gutter.
“Oh, this’ll be fun.” Elliot grinned.
As it turned out, we both sucked at bowling.Bad.Beer went down easy though—maybe a little too fucking easy. We finished one game with me knocking over a single fucking pin. I was fucking proud of that one point.
