Frack!
I spring away from Nate. Well, I try to spring away from him. His arms are so tight around me, I only make it about half an inch before he pulls me back into his chest and buries his head deeper in the space between my neck and the pillow.
“Piss off, we’re sleeping,” he grumbles against my skin. He’s not talking to me.
There’s a scoff from the end of the bed.
I turn my head and catch sight of Parker, who’s got Boo cradled in his arms like a stuffed animal and is staring down at us with a knowing look. My wide eyes meet his amused ones.
“He’s half asleep,” I explain desperately, doing my best to squirm away from Nate. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“Sure he doesn’t.” Parker’s voice is skeptical.
“Nate!” I hiss, elbowing him in the side. “Let go of me.”
With a deep sigh, he unwinds his arms from my frame and rolls onto his back. His hair is mussed and his eyes are sleepy when they peel open to meet mine.
“Christ, West, it’s not even seven. You always wake up like this?”
I glance from him to my brother and back again in total confusion.
Parker just caught Nate and I twined together like wisteria vines, and neither of them is acting like it’s a big deal. In fact, they’re both staring at me like I’m the crazy one in this scenario.
What the hell?
Before either of them can say another word, I hop out of bed and practically run to the bathroom, muttering a short, “Gotta pee!” under my breath before slamming the door behind me.
I stare at myself in the mirror for a few seconds. My eyes are bright with anxiety and something else — something I barely recognize.
It looks a lot like hope.
Unfortunately, that does very little to detract from the ugliness of my black eye which, while slightly less swollen today, still makes me look like Hilary Swank in Million Dollar Baby. I’m not going to be winning beauty pageants anytime soon.
I can hear murmured conversation through the door, but I can’t make out any of the words. I quickly decide I don’t want to hear any of their words, especially if they concern me, so I strip down to my skin and pull open the shower door. Nate’s shower is ultra-modern — opaque glass extends down to the tile floor and a chrome rainfall fixture drops a torrent of hot water straight down on my head. I stay in there for far too long, experimenting with the different settings, smelling Nate’s shampoo like a creepy stalker, and generally pretending the world outside this glass cube of steam does not exist.
If only.
Then I wouldn’t have to deal with the maybe-crisis of my big brother knowing about my not-so-secret feelings for his best friend of all time who, coincidentally, is forbidden from ever so much as touching me.
I think I’m developing an ulcer.
I dig through my bag until I’ve located my toothbrush, some makeup, and a fresh outfit. My choices are severely limited, but I eventually settle on a red silk wraparound top that fits me like a glove and brings out the hazel in my eyes, a pair of slim-fit black jeans, and few simple silver wrist bangles. Staring at the burn on my neck, I mourn the loss of my sunshine necklace and wonder again if Cormack kept it as a souvenir or tossed it in the garbage.
Bastard.
Knowing it’ll drive Nate crazy, I forego the practical Tory Burch flats Lila packed in favor of my sky-high classic Louboutins — jet black with a cherry red sole. After a few swipes of mascara and a failed attempt at concealing the bruises around my eye, I steady my shoulders and take one last look in the mirror.
My hair’s a bit wild — towel dried, since Nate doesn’t own a blow dryer — and there’s no missing the ugly black eye… but still. I’m not half bad.
Not half bad? I glare at myself. You’re hot. Go out there and show Nate what he’s been missing all these years, the idiot.
If my hands weren’t shaking so much as I reach for the doorknob, I’d almost believe it.