Page 203 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

“I just mean…” Instead of joking, I simply spoke the truth. “Since we’ve met you’ve been so put-together. You always know what to say to get what you want. You’re prepared in a way even I wasn’t—and I make a habit of always prepping for the worst-case scenario.” Alex’s eyes were swimming with emotions I couldn’t name. “You’re attentive. So fucking attentive. You’re smart. Capable. Hard-working. When you enter a room, it brightens, every single time.” My cheeks flushed. “During sex, you always seem to know what you’re doing—even when you don’t.” At that, he laughed. “And while all of those things are true…you also…” I didn’t know how to say this the right way—but I tried.

“You have masks—so many of them I’ve lost count. You use them to protect yourself. A fact I admire, truly, as no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to do the same. But to see beneath the masks…to see you…vulnerable…and…imperfect…” I trailed off. Alex was watching me, the weight of his gaze like a warm blanket.

“To see Alex James as awhole…picture? Not just the put-together-bits you want everyone to see is an honor.” I continued, bolstered by his attention.God, how to phrase this.“And I find…I like you more this way, without the masks. Dirty socks and all.”

Maybe he’d needed reassurance after earlier.

After being laid so bare before me.

Because Alex’s eyes were wet when I met his gaze again.

Wet.

Glistening, as he stared at me for a beat, processing my words.

And then he cleared his throat.

It seemed I’d made him speechless.

Whether or not that was a good thing, I had no idea. At least, not until he tugged me into his side. And suddenly, I was smashed into a wall of heat and Alex was pressing a kiss to my temple. He held me there, recharging, all that manic energy from earlier missing.

“I’m glad you don’t mind my dirty socks, Georgie,” Alex finally said, voice hoarse.

Embarrassed by the emotion I’d exhibited, I was tempted to pull free. But that would mean losing Alex’s embrace, and I wasn’t willing to do that.

At least…not yet.

The rest of the tour was enlightening. Alex wasn’t a slob, by any means, but he wasn’t a clean freak either. It was entertaining to see what spaces he kept the most organized. As we went through his study, a few empty bedrooms with a couple sad bookshelves—because he said he preferred audiobooks—and his well-stocked back porch with its high-end grill and patio furniture, I made a mental list of all the objects that had been given a home in spots that were not their designated areas.

Alex’s bedroom was the most interesting of all, for obvious reasons.

Sleepy and vulnerable, this was where he retired after every long day.

While his house, as a whole, was his private domain, his bedroom was arguably the most personal space inside it. It smelled of expensive cologne and a hint of clean sweat. The walls were painted navy blue with a rich wooden trim, and beams across the ceiling. A sturdy four poster bed was stationed in between two floor-to-ceiling windows sporting rumpled sheets the same color as the walls.

One half of the room remained pristine, while the other housed a hockey stick, a pile of dirty laundry—and a basket that was full of clean clothes. The whole area was an eclectic mix of homey and refined. Like the two sides of Alex’s personality were mashed together in the space.

Alex entered before me, dropping my hand as he side-stepped toward the bed and surreptitiously attempted to kick his discarded socks beneath it before I could see them.

“What did Ijustsay?” I laughed, amused.

“Sorry, old habits die hard!” Alex apologized. That was when I spotted the takeout container on his night stand. I frowned, and Alex snorted. “What, you’re fine with laundry but you draw the line at take-out?”

“It’s unsanitary.”

“You’re so fucking cute.” Alex pinched his face together with a nose scrunch. “It’s unsanitary,” he echoed, in a lower tone of voice, like he was trying to mimic me.

His easy grin made it obvious he was not upset. In fact, he lookedamused, if not a little embarrassed.

“I’m not judging,” I promised. “I told you most of what I eat is take-out too. Only, I have the common sense to not eat in bed.”

Alex snorted.

“Glad to see you’re fine with dirty socks but you draw the line at crumbs on the mattress.”

“I have to draw the linesomewhere.” I had so few lines with him. So few I wasn’t even sure I could count them. Nothing he did truly annoyed me, which was as fascinating as it was overwhelming.

“Is this a dealbreaker?” Alex’s eyes were still oddly vulnerable, despite his teasing tone.

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