I keep trying not to think of last night, I keep telling myself it would’ve been just another hour. Meant nothing. But the problem is that I'm spending so much more than one hour thinking about it. I can still feel his five o’clock shadow scraping across my stomach, my body catching a fire of desire and urgency.
That's one of the reasons I felt relieved when we walked into my dad's house and I saw how messy it was. Putting myself to work helped me separate from my thoughts. The other reason was that it made me feel needed. It was nice to walk in and see the effect of us living apart.
Now we're back at Isaac's place. Our place. And I'm still cleaning because I have no idea what else to do. Why can’t there be some kind of instruction manual for awkward situations like these?
I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed, folding Claire's laundry, when Isaac taps on my door. I know it's him because Claire's taking a nap. And because she hasn't yet mastered the fine art of knocking.
“Hey," I call out.
The door opens, and Isaac steps in. Immediately my neck feels hot. I don't know if he knows how incredibly good-looking he is. Is it the eyebrows? The chocolate eyes? Those full lips, the lower one in a perpetual pout. Or is it his smile?
It may be a mix of everything, but that smile has them all beat. I really, really like when he smiles.
“Are you running a covert operation in here?" he asks, his tone teasing. The door closes behind him, and he leans against it.
I lay a pair of shorts on the stack, ignoring the heat starting up in other places. “No, why?"
“Because you closed the door to fold laundry."
“I thought maybe you'd like some alone time. We spent the day at my dad's, so I just thought..." Doesn't everybody like alone time? The way Isaac's looking at me now, I'm guessing he doesn’t.
“I'm good, Aubrey. I mean, I do like alone time." He comes forward, stopping when his knees are flush with the bed. He reaches over, one finger tracing my collarbone, which is exposed thanks to my tank top. “I like alone time that I spend with you."
I freeze, one of Claire’s shirts in my clutch. My breath is shallow, desire slamming through me like a freight train. Swallowing hard, I force myself to knock it off. “Isaac, last night was—”
“Don’t say it.”
I take a deep breath and unfold my legs, rising so I'm on my knees on the bed. My movement knocks Isaac's magical finger off my skin, giving me the break I need. Distanced from his touch, I can think more clearly.
“A mistake.” I finish my sentence anyway. “Our situation is messy enough without bringing sex into it.” I have to focus to keep my thoughts from straying onto memories of how close it came to that. “And definitely no more tequila for me." I smile as I say it, trying to lighten my message.
Isaac nods slowly, his lips pushed out. “Right, the tequila. I thought you'd mention that part of it."
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