Page 33 of Nightmare

“Hello, my dear sweet best friend.”I stroke my hand along the top of Summer’s head from behind the smaller sofa in Travis’ living room.

She cackles, “I am so sorry.”

I hum and round the sofa to fall down next to her, “You ready to go home?”

She levels me with a look that screams sass, “I’ve been ready for hours while you went to Dick Town.”

I snort and look at the clock hanging over head of the giant TV mounted on the wall, “Summer, it’s 9 in the fucking morning, why are we awake?!”

She stands, heels already strapped to her feet, and claps her hands together, “Things to do!”

I groan as Travis walks out of his room, shirtless and sleepy, scratching at his very nice chest.

Where the fuck are my shoes?

We have got to go before I fall back onto his dick and break my hit-it-and-quit-it rule again.

“Breakfast?” He asks.

He squints his eyes at me when he sees me standing, picking my purse up off the sofa and throwing it over my shoulder.

“Olivia.” His voice is liquid heat, begging me to turn around and straddle him once again.

His face is stone. Stone with a little stubble coating his perfect fucking jawline and dark lashes fanning across his cheeks as he tries to read my body language.

Sorry, sexy. I’m unreadable.

I meet his eyes, the darkness burning me like the sun, “Yes, Travis?”

Summer snorts behind me, heading to the guest room to say goodbye, leaving me to defend myself to the force Travis creates around us, sucking me in and holding me hostage.

He takes the next two steps towards me slowly, reaching out to run his knuckles along my cheek, “Have breakfast with me.”

I blink, once, twice, and grin at him, refusing to rub my face against the hand that touches me, “I already made plans today.”

He quirks an eyebrow, “Oh, you’re back to blowing me off?”

“It’s easier this way.”

Our eyes lock, and I can’t turn away. I can’t stop staring into the dark depths, wondering what it would be like to actually open up to this person. To let him past where I’m holding him now. I cringe internally, my blood turning to ice.

It’s easier to keep him as this hot two-nightstand, dark and mysterious guy rather than an actual person because when he’s him, he can hurt me.

And that’s how I like everyone – at a fucking distance, with no importance to my life, unable to fuck with me.

Summer comes bounding out of the bedroom cackling like a witch, Mac behind her gripping onto the back of her dress.

“Trav!” Mac’s voice booms from behind the man in question, and he finally breaks the lock with my eyes to turn and look at his friend.

“Please explain to Summer how fucking phenomenal breakfast at The Top is, and how she needs to experience their French toast.”

Summer continues laughing and turns around in his hold to plant a quick kiss on his lips, “I told you, Mac Miller, I’ve been to The Top a hundred thousand times, and I don’t like French toast.”

I laugh, because fuck, this dude does kind of look like a preppy, tattooless Mac Miller. He groans, “RIP, my boy Mac.”

Summer makes a pouty face, pulling away from him and shoving past Travis to grab my hand, “Ready?”

I pat Travis on his hard chest as I pass him, “Thanks for the dick.”

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