Page 25 of Run, Run, Roommates
She hums again and closes her eyes.
“Nope, come on, get up.” I grab her closest hand and tug harder. “If we can get out the door within the next ten minutes I’ll have time to make you an espresso at William’s place.”
Brin doesn’t answer, but rolls toward me and off the bed, barely giving me time to get out of the way before she stands, toe to toe with me. She stretches again and yawns so wide I can count her back teeth before she slumps against me, face-first, into my chest.
I laugh, causing her head to bounce, and lightly wrap my arms around her.
This is new. This is weird. This is causing my heart rate to sky rocket because she’s in that skimpy little tank top and a pair of boxers with the waistband rolled up and I’m only wearing my worn gray sweatpants and I can feel her hard nipples and her hot breath and . . .
Brin straightens, blinks sluggishly, and walks toward the door like a zombie. I hear her trundle down the hall and into the bathroom, leaving me standing in the middle of the bedroom with a growing hard-on and an ache in my chest.
I shake it off and get dressed while Brin’s in the bathroom. I knock after five minutes. “Brin. Five more minutes for the espresso offer.”
Ten seconds later there’s a flush, then I hear the water running. The door opens and I switch places with a still-groggy Brin. A few minutes later I’m by the door, waiting, while she changes clothes with the door cracked open while I try not to look.
With seven seconds left to spare, Brin comes out in jeans and a cranberry-red sweater. I hold out my hand and she grabs it, using it for balance while she tugs on her waterproof sheep-skin-lined boots that I got her last year for Christmas. I retrieve her knit beanie which she tugs over her head, covering the bun she’d pulled her hair back into. I wrestle her into a jacket and lead the way down the stairs.
The whole trip, Brin is half-asleep. I take us to the right subway, hook my arms around her when she sways on the ride, and when she gets cold despite the layers she’s wearing, I give her my coat. She burrows into it, her closed eyes the only thing visible while I brace against the motion of the train.
When we get to William’s place, I wave to the security guard and Brin and I ride the elevator up. I park her out on the balcony while I make that espresso I promised her with William’s fancy machine.
When I get back outside, Brin is asleep on the lounge chair. That’s fine, the coffee is too hot anyway. I set our coffees down on the wicker table next to her and grab a blanket from inside and cover her up.
When I sit down on the other side of the lounger, Brin shifts slightly and I look at her.
“Are you awake?” I whisper. “There’s coffee.”
Instead of rolling away from me for the coffee, she rolls toward me. Her eyes blink open and she does that adorable lip-smacking thing again. “Wake me up . . . for the picture.” And then she buries her face in my shoulder.
“Hang on,” I say, and try to extract my arm from underneath her. She grunts in annoyance. “Hang on.”
Finally my arm is free and I put it around her. Brin sighs in happiness and wiggles closer.
That little sigh echoes inside me. I’ve got a beautiful woman snuggling up against me. My boss is gone for the week, my coffee is within reach, and the sky is a brilliant golden-red hue. There are clouds out, enough to keep it interesting without blocking the view, although behind us, low gray clouds loom.
I take my phone out and, even though Brin’s not awake and the sun’s not up yet, I take a few pictures. I want to remember this. A rare good moment when the holidays are usually shit.
The sunrise continues to bloom and when I finally catch the first dot of molten gold from the sun, I shake Brin awake.
“Whu—?”
“It’s time. We gotta get up.”
Brin rolls and stretches and then I pull her to her feet. We both turn our backs to the railing and I hold the phone out and angle it to get both our faces and the sunrise. Some of her hair has come loose from the beanie and the wind whips it around and she shivers. I pull her tighter and then click, it’s done.
“All right, another three points in the book,” I say. I navigate to the private team channel for us to upload our proof of points and send the picture. Then I update our spreadsheet. We have twenty-six points now.
“Hmmmm . . .” When I look down at Brin, she’s horizontal on the lounger again.
“Hey,” I say, reaching down to grab her foot and shake it. “Your coffee is getting cold.”
“Don’t want coffee,” she mumbles. “More sleep.”
“You’ll sleep better if we get you home to your own bed. Then you can sleep all you want and I’ll work on more tasks. Like . . .” I think for a minute. “Baking cookies.”
That gets me an eye blinking open and an exaggerated pout. “But I wanted to bake Christmas cookies. You don’t even like Christmas cookies.”
“I like two more points for our team. And then you can eat cookies when you wake up.”
