Page 52 of After All This Time

Or at least he did last night, anyway.

He was drunk and stuck here with me after not going home with the girl from the bar. She wasn't the one he ended up with. That was me. Alone here, just us under the same roof, like so many times before, except this time it was different.

Jesus, I practically cockblocked him, leaving him with no outlet, and all that pent-up tension had nowhere to go but straight at me. And it wasn't some subtle, maybe-I'm-imagining-it vibe; it was right there, loud and impossible to ignore.

But since it's a new day, I'll play ignorant and act as if last night never happened because acknowledging it would mean facing something I'm not sure either of us is ready for.

I glance at my phone and check the time. There's no way Tobias will be up before nine on a Sunday morning.

I roll out of bed too quickly, regret punching me square in the skull as the hangover from hell settles in.

Reaching for a pair of green fluffy socks, I slide them on, desperate for some relief after a night of torturing my feet with heels. A loose cardigan follows, wrapped around the shorts and tank top I somehow managed to change into before collapsing into bed last night.

I walk past Tobias's closed door, relief washing over me when I see no sign of him as I make my way to the kitchen, hunting for ibuprofen and coffee like they're my lifeline. His door is firmly shut, and I can only hope he's as wrecked by last night's tequila as I am.

Stay in there, Tobias. Sleep it off.

I shuffle into the kitchen, beelining for the coffee machine. My fingers are already reaching for the ibuprofen, shaking two pills into my palm like they're the answer to all my problems.

Then I hear it.

Tobias's door opens, and my body tenses, every nerve aware of his presence even before he enters the room. I hear his footsteps, each one sending my thoughts spiraling. I try to brace myself, my fingers drumming against the counter as I rehearse casual, neutral, not-about-to-combust energy.

But then he steps into the kitchen andcasualdies a brutal death.

"Morning, Firefly," Tobias says, his voice low and rough, edged with just enough gravel to remind me of last night's alcohol.

"Morning." I fight to keep my tone as light as possible. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, please."

When I finally turn to face him, it's like the universe is trying to test me, and I'm really not in the mood to play along. Tobias is leaning back against the kitchen island, arms casually resting by his sides, his fingers gripping the edge. He's shirtless; tattoos spread across his chest and shoulders, curling over his muscles while his pierced nipples catch the light. If that wasn't enough, he's only wearing a pair of low-slung sweatpants that barely cling to his hips, revealing a flawless V-line that shouldn't be on display before I've even had coffee.

"Did you sleep okay?"I ask.

After you practically forced me to get as far away from you as possible.

"Out like a light the second my head hit the pillow. You?"

"Yeah, I think so. Last night's a little fuzzy, you know."

"That last shot must've hit you pretty hard, considering I had to carry your ass back here,"he says, watching me as I pour twomugs of coffee. I wrap my hands around my own, leaving his beside the machine.

"That was because of my shoes, not the alcohol."

His nod and the slight darkening of his gaze say everything he doesn't, everything he won't, because he doesn't need to—not when I've confirmed that I remember every detail from last night just fine.

"I was going to get some practice in today, but I think I'll go back to bed. I need to rest my feet. I'll see you later."

"Wait a minute."He shifts, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Look, if I was an ass last night, I'm sorry. I was drunk… I didn't mean to be a dick."

We've never let an argument come between us. Tobias can't stand going to bed angry, and neither can I. Even last night, he wouldn't let me walk away without apologizing. But whatever's happening here is different, and we both know it.

Chapter 21

Tobias

I've barely seen Amelia over the last few days. She's been working late or spending time with her new friends, and, to be honest, I've been doing my fair share of avoiding her. Giving her space feels like the only way forward, especially since I'm the one who threw us into this awkward situation. I know it's on me, so the least I can do is step back while things settle down.

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