Page 23 of Two days, One Pucking Night

He tilts his head in my direction, and a warm, inviting smile stretches his face.

Seeing him like this, relaxed and at ease, is refreshing. Sparks of heat dance through my fingers. At the center of my chest, I feel a strange pull, as if a thread has been knotted up inside me.

I expected this moment, the morning after, to be awkward. We crossed boundaries and threw caution to everyone and everything. And from his initial hesitation, I expected him to be withdrawn, reserved, and worse, regretful about the whole encounter.

“Sit.” He points to the stool beside me.

I slip onto the seat, wincing as I do so.

Xavier’s eyes heat, and the ghost of a smile appears on his lips, so faint it could easily be missed. He places a round white bowl before me, along with a glass of water.

“Is this a smoothie bowl?” The bowl is an organized and aesthetically pleasing spread of peanut butter, banana, granola, chia seeds, strawberries, and coconut flakes.

Carrying another bowl in his hands, he sits on the stool beside me. “Yes. I was going to cook something, but I didn’t want to give you PTSD from trying to burn the house down again.”

“So thoughtful.”

“I try.”

I stare at the bowl, not sure whether I should eat it or keep it since it looks so good. “You usually cook?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. My pancakes and smoothie bowls are to die for.”

“Pancakes, no. But let me be the judge of this smoothie bowl. ”I dig in and can’t help but moan at how everything blends so well together.

“If you keep making that sound, neither of us will finish breakfast today,” he says, digging into his bowl.

I raise my spoon to my lips and lick it clean. “I’m not opposed to the idea.”

“You need to eat first. You used up a lot of energy.”

“You mean you wore me out.”

“I’d rather go for 'Fucked you to sleep.’ It feeds my ego better.”

I take several bites of my breakfast. “I can’t imagine that ego getting any bigger.”

Xavier shakes his head. “Impossible.”

I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I downed the bowl in less than two minutes.

“We should talk about what happened,” Xavier says, breaking the lingering silence.

“I don’t regret it, Xavier. If you do.” I shrug, refusing to feed the small, insecure voice in my head.

Xavier’s body tenses and an eerie silence follows. He continues eating, finishing the remainder of his food. When he’s done, he turns his stool around, pinning me with a stare I can’t quite place.

His hands land on the side of my stool, and with one fluid movement, he pulls the stool toward him until there’s no space between us. “I don’t regret it.” There is bass in his voice, almost as if I’m being chastised for thinking otherwise. “I can’t regret being with you.” His words are sharp, clear, leaving no room for argument, but there is a quiet wavering tremor in his voice. The tick in his jaw and flare in his nose tell me the words said out loud come as a revelation to him, especially with the relationship and bond he shares with my brother. “We agreed that this is just for this weekend. When you leave here, when I leave here, we go back to our regular lives.”

“And pretend this never happened,” I reiterate wanting to ease the shift in the atmosphere

“And that’s okay?” He reaches to push a stray strand of hair behind my ears, tracing my ears.

I shudder.

I take my time, marinating on his words, trying to make sense of what is unspoken. I nod, understanding dawning on me. “Don’t worry; I won’t fall for you.”

I get his line of questioning. Xavier is used to women fawning after him and his dick with the briefest encounter. The last thing he wants is for me, his best friend’s little sister, to follow the same trajectory. Just because I get it doesn’t mean it doesn’t grate my skin.

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