Page 41 of Pumped

Then suddenly, he’s gone.

I gasp, eyes flying open to find Everest backing away from me. His expression is flat, closed off and guarded. I search hisface for any sign of the arousal coursing through my veins, but all I find is a touch of sadness in his eyes.

Without another word, he turns toward the stairs that lead down to his bedroom in the basement. He shuffles toward them, shoulders slumped with an air of defeat.

I watch as he disappears down the stairs and listen for his door to click shut. Only then do I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The tension inside me unravels.

What the hell just happened? I feel unmoored, untethered, adrift and lost at sea. My life has spiraled out of control and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to rein it all back in and regain some semblance of order. I don’t know how to stop everything from careening even further into chaos.

Everest has worn down my defenses. Since the first day we moved into this house together, he’s been steadily chipping away at them. An inch here, another inch there. And now my carefully constructed walls are about to crumble. I’m exposed. I’m vulnerable. And I’m afraid that there’s nothing I can do to stop him.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

EVEREST

Something’s changed. I don’t know what exactly. But after that day with the Chad kid, theincidentin the foyer, and the lust-fueled standoff in the middle of the night… something’s changed.

Owen is still Owen, but a little less Owen than normal? Like, he and Ivy haven’t been arguing as much. He hasn’t been nagging her about picking up her toys or being a drill sergeant about eating healthy meals. I found tubs of ice cream in the freezer the other day. Bubblegum and salted caramel. Like, wtf?

And he hasn’t been back to his apartment at all, I don’t think. I overheard him on the phone one day talking about signing a lease or something. So maybe he found someone to rent the place?

I don’t know how I feel about all this, to be honest. I mean, I’m glad he’s all-in on raising Ivy with me and I’m ecstatic that I’m not coming home to war zones every goddamn day. But he’s also not leaving me with many reasons to keep hating him.

Ugh. Who the hell am I kidding? I don’t hate him very much anymore. Don’t get me wrong, he is still annoying as shitsometimes, but I think I gave up actively hating him a while ago. Now, I’m more like… tolerant with a dash of intrigued. And horny. Definitely horny for Owen.

And he’s horny for me too. I keep catching him staring at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. Especially my hands, which, not to brag or anything, but I’ve got pretty sexy hands. And I might be imagining it, but I’m pretty sure his eyes light up just a tiny bit whenever I walk into the room. He tries to hide it, I’m sure, but I know Owen better than he thinks I do. He definitely has the hots for me. It’s just a matter of time.

I was really close to kissing him that night in the kitchen. I’m still not entirely sure why I didn’t. I was tired, obviously. But like, not just physically tired, I think. After my reaction to the Owen look-alike at the club, it felt weird to come home and make out with the real deal.

He was all messed up too. From the touch of crazy in his eyes to the way he swung from hot to cold and back again, he clearly wasn’t thinking straight. It wouldn’t have been right of me to take advantage of his moment of weakness. And I can’t imagine how much worse it would make things between us.

Neither of us has mentioned what happened since. But whenever we’re in the same room, there’s a noticeable amount of unresolved sexual tension filling the air. We’re just lucky Ivy’s a bit too young to pick up on it. Because whew, it’s thick. The boys at Mars have a bet going for when we’ll finally fuck.

A part of me wants us to just do it already, but there’s another part of me that kinda likes the suspense. It’s like we’re two MMA fighters circling the cage, each waiting for the other to make the first move. The longer we drag this out, the more explosive it’ll be when it happens.

Today is Saturday and I’ve taught a full day of classes. I’m amped and exhausted at the same time. It’s the best feeling, like I’m high on some top shelf drugs.

I jog up the steps of our stoop and let myself in the front door. Owen and Ivy aren’t in the kitchen or the living room. “Hello?”

“Up here!”

I drop my duffel on the floor and take the stairs two at a time. They aren’t on the second floor either, but I hear voices on the third—Eden and Jeremy’s bedroom. What the hell are they doing up there?

“Ives? Owen?”

I climb the last flight a little more slowly as a sense of dread comes over me. There’s only one reason why they would be up here.

When I reach the landing and peek into Eden’s and Jeremy’s bedroom, I freeze. It feels like all the oxygen’s been sucked out of the house. I’m trying to drag in a breath, but I can’t.

There are piles of stuff scattered all over the place. Piles of Eden’s and Jeremy’s stuff. And in the middle of the room are Ivy and Owen, sitting on the floor. She’s hugging one of Jeremy’s dress shirts to her chest. He’s holding a blow-dryer.

“Mommy used to wear Daddy’s shirts a lot. They were too big for her. She looked so funny in them.” Ivy giggles, but the sound is muffled by the rush of blood past my ears.

“I bet she did.” Owen lifts the blow-dryer. “What about this? You want to keep it?”

Ivy studies for a second, head tilted in thought. “I don’t know how to use it.”

---