Page 78 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

between us so smooth and easy. I wish I had this sooner just so I

could know how damn good it feels to be hugged. I press my hand to

the back of her head, making sure she tucks her cheek into my

shoulder, and we connect for what feels like years.

In reality, it’s mere seconds on the clock, and we both back up when

it feels like the other is ready to do so. She tucks her hair behind her

ear, and I stuff my hands in my pocket, watching her willingness to

stay grow but not being able to ask how to do that.

“My room is down the hall,” she mutters, blushing as she points

around the frame of the bedroom door. “Last one on the right. If you

need anything, that’s where I’ll be.”

“What could I need?”

“I don’t know, just… anything. Or make yourself at home. Either one.

I mean, whichever you want to do.”

I grin at her dismay, watching the blush climb up the bridge of her

nose and spread further across her pointed features. She looks away,

arms hiked under her chest before deciding to surrender and leave

for her bedroom. I aim to follow her, but I stop myself, realizing how

creepy and invasive that would be.

Instead, I shut my door silently and make my way to the shower.

It’s a much better experience than having to shower at the

laundromat downtown. I never had many clothes going in the

washing machines there, but the showers were free with a wash. I

would have a tee shirt or two to toss into a spin cycle so I could

shower. It wasn’t like the apartment bathroom where I stayed with

Farrah on her father’s dime, but that setup was killed the minute I

found her cheating.

Then it was back to the bar and back to the one place where I thought

I couldn’t be safe. The liquor was there for me when I had moved

back onto my couch full-time, and I did indulge.

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