Page 47 of No Interest in Love

Shay slides back into the room, shirt falling from her shoulder even though I tightened that sucker as much as I could. My stomach gets a wave of something slightly different than what I’ve been dealing with since the train started moving.

She dims the overhead light, and once the privacy curtain is back in place and the door locked, she tosses a sixteen-ounce bottle of water up at me.

“Sweet,” I say, cracking the lid and gulping down to the label.

“Yeah, our neighbors had extras. And were very much asleep.”

“You stole for me?” I say, lifting my eyebrow. “Didn’t know your feelings ran so deep.”

“I will take it back, I swear.”

I roll to my side and hold it out to her.

“I was kidding, Jace.”

“I know. I’m offering you some.”

She takes the bottle, not-so-subtly wipes the top off, and then gulps down to the bottom of the label. Water and breathing have helped enough to make me want to crash for the night, and by the way Shay’s eyes are drooping, I can tell she’s ready for that too. But there’s only one bed, and she’s short, but now that the bed’s lowered there’s no comfortable-looking place to sit.

Sliding over as much as I can, I pat the spot next to me. She raises an eyebrow.

“Come on,” I say, “I promise I won’t make a pass at you. Well…intentionally.”

The corner of her mouth picks up and she sets the water down. “I’m not sleeping by your head.”

“Which one?” I ask with a smirk as she takes the first step up.

“I’m already regretting this.”

“Don’t fall into the toilet…again.”

“Give me your hand.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

“Give me your damn hand.”

“There you go. Manners are important.”

I pull her up, and she somewhat falls onto my legs. Her hand lands on my ass, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she pushes herself into position, her feet in my face, my feet in hers. Only she’s so short that her toes only come to just under my chin, while I think mine are past the top of her head.

A light chuckle passes through the semidarkness.

“What?” I ask her.

“It’s just funny…My first time sleeping with a guy and it’s you.”

I jerk a little bit, brow furrowing as I try to make out the expression on her face. “You said you weren’t a virgin, didn’t you?”

“I’m not talking about that, horndog. I’ve never actuallysleptin a bed with a guy before.”

“You called me a horndog.”

“Because you are.”

“That expression died in the nineties.”

“Forgive me for not being caught up on the ‘hip to the jive’ lingo.”

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