Page 92 of Just My Type of wrong guy

Chapter Twenty-nine - A.J.

There’s just some things that never change

You say we’re just friends

But friends don’t know the way you taste

Señorita – Shawnmila

Alexandra’s phone buzzes at 9 a.m., vibrating on the worn leather couch. I open my eyes slowly in the dim room, my back feeling the price of not just sleeping on a couch but having her on top of me. The smell of old wood and sweat mixed with her perfume lingers in the air, and the walls around us, decorated with old Vicious Bonds logos, feel like they’re watching us, silent witnesses to last night.

I want to throw her phone, but I don’t, because Alexandra stirs on my chest and shuts off the alarm, the phone’s light lighting up her face. When she smiles at me, still half asleep, my chest tightens. Her hair’s a mess, and my shirt—or better yet, the shirt she’s wearing now—slips a little off her shoulder, showing some skin I just explored a few hours ago.

“We’ve got a show today,” she murmurs with a lazy sigh, and my fingers keep tracing patterns on her back, feeling every curve.

“We do.”

She hesitates before speaking again, her voice low and hoarse. I reach for the switch, moving her hand for a moment, then go back to touching her smooth skin.

“Can I confess something?”

I nod, and she slides her fingers across my chest, drawing something invisible.

“I really needed this, you know?” Alexandra looks at me, her eyes still half-shut from the light.

“The show?”

“You.” The word comes out low, like it’s stuck in her throat. “It was unbearable being around since that Brittany...”

I laugh, pulling her closer.

“I found your little jealousy freak-out hilarious, Alexandra.”

“It wasn’t jealousy,” she retorts, swatting my arm.

“You know it was,” I tease, lazy, no rush. “But Britt’s my masseuse. I called her early that day because I was tense, and yeah, I was jealous about you going out alone. Barely slept.”

Alexandra furrows her brows, confused, trying to figure out what I just said.

“So, you didn’t...?”

I let out a low laugh.

“I would never take a girl to my bed with you next door. That’s such a straight guy thing, Alexandra.

She closes her eyes and bursts into laughter, the sound filling the basement.

“Oh my God, how do two horny people manage to be this tragically awkward?”

“I wasn’t awkward,” I laugh, feeling confident about my self-control.

“You spent the whole day away from me yesterday, Anthony. The tiredness and headache excuse didn’t fool me.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s your fault for being so intoxicating.” I try to pull her in for a kiss, but Alexandra pulls away and jumps to her feet.

She stares at me for a second, then looks away, turning her back to me. Her hair slides like a dark curtain when she lifts her arms, pulling my shirt up. The movement’s quick but feelsintimate. The air in the basement touches her skin before she slips her shirt back on, adjusting it precisely.

Only when she’s dressed again does she turn to me, handing me my shirt.

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