Page 85 of Please Don't Leave Me

He gives me a questioning look. "Do you remember much from last night?"

"No, I don't even remember calling you, but I checked my messages when I woke up and put two and two together."

He nods and turns back to the stove.

"I hope I didn't embarrass myself too much." To be honest, I am mortified. I have no idea what I said or did.

"No, you were fine. Just drunk. " I don’t know how, but I can tell he's lying.

I walk over to get closer and hop up on the counter next to him. I just sit there and watch him make eggs.

He takes his eyes off the pan and looks over at me.

"You hungry?"

"Starving."

He gives me that adorable soft smile that melts me. "Good."

"So why were you at the spa with your mom yesterday?"

"She was having a bad week, so we spent the day together."

"That's so sweet. Did Quinn and Jacob join you guys, or are you the favorite son?"

He hesitates. "Quinn joined us later for lunch and a movie."

"Well, your mom is very lucky to have sons who will spend the day with her when she's having a hard time."

He just shrugs, and the corners of his mouth lift, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes.

When he finishes, he hands me a plate, and I dish up some eggs, bacon, and toast. He walks over to the stools by the island, and I follow, taking a seat next to him. I could have left an empty stool between us, but I don't.

I feel like I should be more nervous than I am, but after he saw me in such a drunken state last night, the ice has already been broken again. We eat, and he fills me in on the details I'm missing about how last night played out.

I just laugh because what else can I do at this point? He doesn't appear to be annoyed by any of it, which is a slightrelief. I would say I forgot how kind and understanding he is, but I didn't.

Sam is the type of friend you call when your car breaks down because you know he'll drop everything to help. Maybe that's why I called him last night. Then again, it likely has more to do with the fact that I still have feelings for him and had just run into him that morning.

His arm is close to brushing mine, and I can feel the static between us. I want to touch him so badly, but I still don't know how he feels.

I glance over at him and catch him looking at me. At first, he looks away, embarrassed, but then he looks back at me, and I stare into those eyes.

They’re a mixture of blue, green, and brown. Not the kind that change color, but the kind where there are patches of each color speckled around his iris. They're like an abstract painting or a patchwork quilt.

So unique and so mesmerizing.

I break the tension by speaking. "This hit the spot, thank you."

He nods, still keeping eye contact with me. "It's no problem."

I'm the one to finally break the stare. I look down at the clothes that I'm assuming are his.

"Would you mind if I rinsed off before I leave?"

"Yeah, that's no problem at all. The bathroom is across the hall from the room you slept in, and the towels are in the hall closet next to my room."

I didn't sleep in his bed after all; that's a relief.

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