Page 67 of No Rings Attached
His laugh broke free then, rich and genuine. “I meant at pretending you’re not nervous. But for the record, I’m terrible at this, too.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and I watched the color creep up from his collar. “I’ve been internally debating how to show you around without sounding like an awkward tour guide.”
I peeked through my fingers. “Really?”
“Really.” His grin turned sheepish. “And I definitely rambled at Grace for ten minutes earlier about whether the mattress on the floor was weird or if I should have rush-ordered a frame, and she told me I was overthinking it, which—” He gestured vaguely at the space between us. “Clearly, we both are.”
The tightness in my chest loosened. “We’re a mess.”
“A well-matched mess.” Then he stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.
Ahug.
Bad Eleanor squealed with glee.Go soft, melt into him, this is your moment!While my body went: pat-pat, like he was a mailman delivering a package.
As soon as he let go, I wanted to dive back in and yell, “Do-over!”
Instead, I blurted out “Right. Goodnight.”
We opened our doors in unison and looked back at each other. Awkward standoff. I panicked and gave him a finger wave.A finger wave.Who even does that? Grandmas and cartoon chipmunks, that’s who.
Then I fled inside, shut the door, and immediately sank to the floor. My head fell forward, hands over my face.
See, that right there was why I didn’t get the guy. I was all finger waves and bathroom jokes while my sister was probably out there batting her lashes and smelling like Chanel.
After a few minutes of my pity party, like a sulking toddler denied their favorite chocolate cupcake, I dragged myself up and swiped my hand along the wall until I found the light switch.
Click.
The room lit up, and I froze.
Blinked.
Then rubbed at my eyes to make sure I was actually seeing what I was seeing.
Drew had said there were afewboxes in here, right?
Because in front of me wasnota few. It was an entire Amazon warehouse! Piles were stacked to the ceiling, towers teetering like drunk Jenga pieces, and me one wrong step away from starring in a very tragic, “Woman crushed under mysterious cardboard avalanche" headline.
I was sure my sister would feel as though I’d upstaged her week purposely, I thought wryly.
And all those boxes wouldn’t be a problem. I was flexible. Easygoing. A go-with-the-flow, roll with the punches kind of girl most of the time.
Except … There was no mattress.
Not even an old metal cot with a thin mattress like the one we had at our house as kids. Not even a sad air mattress that you know would deflate in the middle of night and leave me waking up like a human taco.
I did not want to interrupt Drew in his bedroom. Sweat beaded my brow thinking about what he was doing to get ready for bed right now.
I bent to pick up a box—because maybe, maybe the bed was hidden underneath or behind it and instantly regretted the decision. The thing nearly ripped my arms out of their sockets. Off balance, I slammed shoulder-first into another stack, which rocked ominously.
I stepped back. “What in the ever-loving hellisthis?” I hissed, bracing my hands up like I could somehow stop the mystery boxes with the strength of my spaghetti arms.
I grunted and shoved a few boxes around, but most were ridiculously heavy. Like,Drew secretly hoarded anvilsheavy. Others rattled every time I tilted them, like maracas at a toddler music class, knowing it was a 50/50 chance one of these boxes would leave me with a concussion.
And no matter how many I shifted—still, no mattress.
Freaking fantastic.
What about the bathroom? Maybe I could sleep in the tub.
