Page 99 of In For a Penny
We’re all absolutely jealous of her now.
“What is it you Americans say? Don’t hate the player, hate the game?” she says with a smirk.
I snort. “Literally no one says that.”
Most of my guests have left already, which I don’t mind. Allie went to bed with Oliver’s number and a huge smile on her face, so it’s just Chloe, Jane, and me.
I like this part of the night. It’s more intimate. And I’ve missed some good girl time.
The turkey has been massacred, and the yams and the string beans have all but disappeared along with the stuffing and scalloped potatoes. And the pecan and pumpkin pies are being polished off as we go around the room and say what we’re thankful for.
“What areyouthankful for then, Penny?” Chloe asks with a smirk.
I glare back at her. To be honest, I have a lot to be thankful for this year. School (with reservations), for one. The fact that I’m able to go to a graduate program abroad is pretty sick. And yeah, it’s unfortunate that I’m not able to spend this holiday with my immediate family, but I was able to form a mini-family here and celebrate with them—and the unwelcome extras.
“I’m thankful foryou, Chloe,” I say with a smirk. “Because now I’ve officially designated you as part of my clean-up crew before you leave.”
I really don’t mean it since almost everything we used is disposable and compostable. All I need to do is toss the garbage and put the leftovers in containers.
I check the time on my phone. “Actually, guys, it’s almost two,” I say. “Do you mind if I kick you guys out? I’m exhausted, and I’m sure Jane is, too.”
Jane rolls to a sitting position from where she was on her back and agrees. “YES. I either go to bed right now, or I’ll be up until five. And I have an essay to write tomorrow, so I would rather not be hungover and tired tomorrow.”
“Noted,” Chloe says, getting to her feet.
Jane and Chloe mercifully departedsoon after I reassured them that I did not need any help cleaning up. I think this was the one instance where I was happy to do so since it gave me a kind of active quiet time. Sure, I didn’t have the partner I craved or his company to share the post-party breakdown, but I could just as well go through it by myself. I managed to clean up in under fifteen minutes, tossing everything into garbage bags, not giving a shit about leftovers (don’t judge—there were barely any left). I must have broken a record.
I’m slipping into my pajamas when my phone rings.
Josh is calling me.
I hesitate. Should I pick up? It’s a quarter to three. This must be important.
“Are you okay?” I answer.
“Buzz me up. I’m downstairs,” he says simply and hangs up.
Okay.
I walk over to the intercom, incredibly confused, and buzz the outside gate open. I unlock the top and bottom locks of the door and remove the security chain. I hear thewooshof the elevator as it rises to reach my floor.
Did he forget something important here? Maybe his wallet?
I see him walk out of the elevator after a few seconds, brows furrowed, forehead creased. He looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him, determined, almost angry. He practically pushes by me into my apartment, without looking me in the eye, and turns to face me as I close the door behind us. “Hey,” he says. His voice doesn’t match his expression. It’s nervous, shaky. “I think we need to talk.”
I put my index finger to my lips and mouth, “Allie.” I don’t want to wake her up. I nod in the direction of my bedroom, and he follows me in.
The click of the door makes me jump as the knowledge that Josh and I are alone and locked in my bedroom sinks in. I am suddenlyextremelyaware of the queen-sized bed right smack in the middle of the room, making it hard to swallow the lump in my throat. The white-and-blue floral duvet cover suddenly looks more welcoming than it ever has, inviting forbidden fantasies of Josh and me rolling on top of it. Naked.
I gulp.
My skin is on fire, and the exhaustion after a long day of cooking, hosting people, and cleaning seems to have completely evaporated from my body. Now, I’m just fucking wired. His presence has given me a second wind, for which I am so thankful because I could not have dealt with this in my previous state of fatigue.
“Soooo…” I drag the word out, waiting for him to say something.
“Right.” He starts nodding, bobbing his head, but doesn’t say anything else. He looks down—I guess to avoid my gaze—and then stops at my top, eyes widening briefly before he controls his expression.
At first, I blush because I think he’s shocked by my super-lame-but-cuteAristocatspajamas covered in white cats (I used to be obsessed with the movie as a kid, so when I found adult PJs with a bunch ofMarieson them, I obviously had to buy them) until I realize it’s because I’m not wearing a bra under the white top. I feel myself flush an even deeper red and cross my arms over my chest as casually as possible.
