Page 77 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
I almost smile back.
I get her water and ibuprofen from the bathroom. “Drink the water. Take the pills in the morning.”
“You’re taking care of me.”
“I’m making sure you don’t die of dehydration.”
“Same thing.”
I make sure she’s tucked in and leave her door cracked open in case she needs anything.
Later, in my room, I pull out my sketchpad. I try to draw her from memory. Her eyes when she laughed at something Wren said. The way she smirked when she caught that fan trying to flirt with me. The soft way she looked at me in the Uber.
I think about how fun the night was. How different she was out there. Loose, wild, magnetic. If she were anyone else, I’d say I was developing a little crush on my not-fiancée.
But she’s not anyone else. She’s Juliet Monroe. She’s way too good for someone like me… even if tonight made me forget that for a few hours.
Chapter18
Juliet
Afew days later, I am still brooding about the events at the nightclub. My brain replays every moment in slow motion: the heat of the dance floor, the smell of his cologne when he leaned close to hear me, the way the lights caught on his jaw when he smiled.
Craving Hunter in a way that I shouldn’t have. I crossed a line. Iknowbetter than this.
I keep thinking about how respectful he was. Not one wandering hand. Not one crude comment. He kept a careful distance, even when I leaned in. Even when I tilted my head so our faces were inches apart. I remember the way he looked at me at that moment. His eyes were dark and steady. His hand stayed on my waist, firm but not possessive. He acted like a man in control.
I acted as though I had absolutely none.
I’m embarrassed at how I threw myself at him. More than that, I’m irritated that I cannot stop thinking about it. A couple of cocktails do not explain the way I pressed against him during that last song.
The music was loud. My pulse was louder. I kissed him hard, gripped his shirt, and would have taken it further if Wren had n’t interrupted us.
God, I am a mess.
The team got back very late from an away game last night. When I got up this morning, Hunter was still asleep. That is probably for the best, because I’m not sure I could look at him without thinking about that kiss.
And I’m not sure I could look at him without wanting to try again. Which is exactly why I am still kicking myself.
Thankfully, I’m pulled from my contemplation when I get a text from The Coven asking me to join them at an SPCA charity event. It’s technically a team thing, but… apparently I’m sort of part of the team now, which still feels surreal.
Being seen by the team management as someone who fits in and helps can only make my case for a future job in PR stronger. Hunter is still asleep when I leave the condo at eleven; I write him a note asking him to meet us if he feels up to it as I head out the door.
The event is at a local park, with adoption booths set up under white tents and adorable dogs everywhere. I find Jessa and Ivy picking out funny selling points to write on the adoption cards for the dogs.
“This one’s name is Princess, but she clearly has anger management issues,” Ivy says, scribbling on a card. “Perfect for someone who needs a guard dog with attitude.”
“That won’t help her get adopted,” I laugh.
“Are you kidding? Honesty is refreshing. Plus, look at that face.”
Princess is indeed adorable, despite apparently being a tiny terror.
Only a few team members are in attendance since they all had such a late night. Thorne’s here with some rookies, all of them looking ragged and running on maybe four hours of sleep.
“Hey!” I say, greeting Thorne and Shane. Ivy put them in charge of the doggy kissing booth. For a cash donation, you can receive kisses from either a pit bull or a terrier. It’s adorable.
“She lives!” Shane says, teasing. He holds up his terrier, talking to her. “Have you met Juliet? She’s a party animal!”
