Page 81 of The Love Playbook

Laughing, I gesture her inside. “Yes. Things are going well.”

She settles on the foot of the bed, looking me over. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Fine. My neck still twinges a little if I turn it the wrong way, but it’s barely noticeable. I told you guys I was fine. By tomorrow I’ll be back to normal.”

Flashing me a smile, Ellie shakes her head. “That’s good. That’s not what I mean, though.” She places her fist under her chin and bats her eyes at me. “Jackson’s been here since yesterday …”

I give her a knowing look. “Uh-huh. And I’m sure you’ve overheard enough to be able to put things together.”

Her cheeks turn pink, which is hilarious since she and Simon were never terribly quiet when they’d get busy in our dorm room. And while we lived in a suite and had separate bedrooms, it was plenty obvious what was going on in there.

“Well, sure,” she says primly, her gaze focused on the bedspread, where she traces the lines of my quilt. “But, I mean, we’re not exactly privy to the details.” She raises her eyes to mine. “Last I knew, you didn’t want anything like a relationship and Jackson did. Is this one last hurrah? Or …?” She spreads her hands, inviting an answer.

“No, Ellie, it’s not ‘one last hurrah,’ as you put it.” I shake my head. Who even talks like that? “We’re … seeing what happens.”

Her eyebrows jump up her head. “What changed?”

Fighting back my smile, I shake my head again. “Someone convinced me that making myself miserable now wasn’t worth avoiding the possibility of pain in the future.”

“Oh yeah?” A grin splits her face. “This person sounds extremely wise. Anyone I know?”

Cackling, I toss a pillow at her. “You’re really fishing for compliments on your advice, huh?”

She pulls the pillow into her lap and wraps her arms around it, her grin still firmly in place. “It was good advice.”

“Yes, Ellie. You gave me good advice. Don’t let it go to your head.”

That pulls a laugh out of her. “I won’t. I promise. I’m just honestly surprised you didn’t get there on your own, what with your self-awareness and tarot practice and all that.”

My smile fades a little, and it’s my turn to trace the lines on the quilt with my fingers. “Yeah, well, we all have our blind spots.”

“True. Which is also why we have good friends to help us see the things we can’t.” She reaches out and pats my hand. “I’m glad you’re okay, both physically after your accident and emotionally with Jackson. I think he’s good for you. And you’re good for him.” She casts a glance at my open door. “Plus, if he wants to come over and cook dinner, he’s welcome anytime.”

As if on cue, Jackson appears in the doorway, a plate in hand. “Hey, Ellie. Your food’s on the counter.”

She hops off the bed with a wave. “Thanks, Jackson!” And then she scurries off, presumably to get her own dinner.

Jackson sets a plate on the bedside table, then leans over to give me a kiss as though we’ve been apart for hours instead of in the same house while he cooks dinner. “Hey,” he says, rubbing his nose against mine.

“Hey.” I’m smiling like an idiot, but I don’t care. He’s adorable. And I’m enjoying this level of easy affection. It’s new and different for me. I haven’t been in a relationship since high school, and that was before I’d decided I was ready for sex. So yeah, we held hands and kissed and stuff, but it lacked the layers of knowledge and familiarity I have with Jackson now.

Nothing else has lasted long enough to get to this point. I’m actually excited for this part. This is the one thing that I saw my friends have and envied—the comfortable affection and familiarity.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him in for another kiss, parting my lips and slicking my tongue over his.

He makes a soft grunt of pleasure, but pulls away. “I thought we were going to eat dinner,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Mmm. Yes. We are. But first I want more kisses.”

His only answer is to climb all the way into the bed and wrap his arms around me, kissing me deeply until we’re both panting. But then he pulls away. “Our food’s gonna get cold.” He sits up and grabs the plate from the table, passing it to me. “Besides, you need nourishment. We want to keep your energy up, plus you’re still healing from your accident.”

With a laugh, I accept the plate. “I’ve told you, I’m fine.”

He hums, a sound that neither agrees nor disagrees with my statement. “Even so. You should eat. I’m going to get my plate. Be right back.”

Grin still stretching my lips wide, I watch him walk away, enjoying the view of his ass in his joggers. He insisted on wearing a shirt to cook, and I can’t say I blame him. No need to risk burns from accidental food splatters.

When he returns a moment later, he settles himself on the bed, then leans over to give me a kiss before settling in to eat.

---