Page 151 of Fake As Puck
The question sends heat straight through me.
“Oh,” I say, glancing down. I’m in a stolen t-shirt from his closet, not the cute silk pajamas I was wearing for him just last month trying to get his attention. “Why?”
“Because I’m trying to picture you, and I want to get it right.”
I suck in a breath and confess, “One of your shirts.”
“Really? Which one?”
I smile, grabbing it. “The gray one. I took it from your dresser.”
He makes a sound that’s half groan, half laugh.
“You took my shirt?” he asks.
“I may have accidentally packed it.”
“Accidentally.”
“Very accidentally.”
He takes a moment, and he says, “And is that all you’re wearing?”
My body comes alive. God, I wish he was here. “West.”
“Is it?” he asks.
I have to shift my legs again because the pulse is taking over my body. “That’s... that’s a very personal question.”
It sounds like he’s laying down now. “We’re in a relationship. I’m allowed to ask personal questions.”
Suddenly a ringtone blasts through my phone. Shit, he wants to FaceTime. I bite my lip and answer it anyway.
His face pops up. The camera is ridiculously close, and I feel like I’m in his personal space.
“Let me see you,” he says. His eyes scan the phone, and I can tell he’s yearning. I get it, it’s late at night, and I’m the one who called first. We’re both feeling the same exact thing.
I inhale, propping my phone at my nightstand. His eyes trail down my body as I crawl on my bed and try to give him a full view of my body.
“Are you wearing anything under my shirt, Liv?” he asks.
I nod, lifting my shirt and showing him the tiny shorts underneath.
“Liv,” he says in a husky voice. “I wish we weren’t apart right now.”
I grab the phone and say, “Soon.”
“But then you’re leaving again.”
I nod. “But it won’t be for long.”
“Then I’ll be leaving.”
I smile. “We tried telling each other it wasn’t going to––”
“Oh, we’re making it work.”
The space between us feels both infinite and nonexistent.
