Page 41 of Embers in the Dark

“What time will you be home?” I ask her.

“I don’t have a curfew!” she throws back. “‘Night.”

Is she fucking kidding me? After what she’s been through, she expects me not to worry?

“Baylee—”

“Tucker, I’m fine.” She looks over at me.

I put my hands up. “Okay, fine. Have a good night.”

I’m not her keeper. I close the door, pissed for a whole new reason. I lean against the door, hearing her speaking to Jacob.

“Who is that guy?” I hear him ask her.

“No one,” she responds.

No one, huh?I guess we’ll see about that.

I’m getting too old for parties, and I’m not even out tonight. But if I’m going to stick to my guns and do this right, I have to stay awake. Baylee isn’t back yet; it’s fucking late though. I forgot how easy it is to be in your early twenties compared to a decade older. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. It’s been a long week, coupled with the shit night of sleep I had, I’m dragging right now.

I was losing steam waiting on the couch, so I hopped into the shower in hopes it would wake me up a bit. Luckily it was just what I needed. I have a shift tomorrow and I tried to get some sleep while I waited for her. But it was pointless, because all I thought about was Jacob getting to put his hands on her all night while I sit around waiting like a fool for her to get home.

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I realize I forgot my phone out in the kitchen, so I make my way through the apartment to grab it.

I walk out and realize that I’m not alone. I was only gone a few minutes, but Baylee must've gotten home when I was in the bathroom. She’s in the kitchen, grabbing water from the fridge. She’s bent over in that tight dress, and fuck me, she’s beautiful.

“Hey, Firefly,” I say, using the nickname I gave her when she was younger. She was always trying, and failing, to catch fireflies in the summer months. She has always been so short, they flew too high before she could catch them. Her brother made fun of her for it, but I always helped her catch a few. The big smile she would beam up at me when I’d finally catch one and give it to her would instantly brighten my day, so I gave her that nickname pretty early on.

“Fuck.” She slams the fridge and turns around. “Damn it,Tucker. That’s fucked up to do to someone that just went through something traumatic like I did.”

“Shit, sorry.” I put my hands up. “I thought you heard me walking in.”

It’s then she realizes what I’m wearing, or I should say what I’m not wearing. Her eyes go wide. I realize how well this plan came together. I hadn’t planned it out this way, but a towel around my waist and her ogling my chest seems like a win, if I do say so myself. She simply stares, her mouth agape and her eyes mesmerized by the tattoos lining my chest and down a portion of my shoulder.

Her eyes peruse my upper body and move lower toward my happy trail, but she tries to recover when she snaps them back up to my face.

“Did you have fun?” I ask her.

She’s biting her lip and nodding. “Mmhmm,” is her only response.

“That’s good.” I smirk. “You need anything?” I move my hand through my wet hair, flexing my biceps in the process.

I see her eyes tracing my movements.

“Baylee?” I ask her.

“Yes?” she croaks out.

I walk toward her. She keeps watching me. At first, she doesn’t know what I’m doing. When I walk around the island, she starts to walk backwards, and then I move closer. She walks back until she’s against the fridge, then I lean my palms against the cool metal, caging her in—I make sure I’m not touching her though.

“Look at that,” I tell her.

“What?” she whispers.

I lean in, bending down so I’m close to the shell of her ear. “From the look of those goosebumps on your arms and the way you’re breathing—I’d say I’m someone.”

I move my nose along her jaw, and I hear her breath hitch. Her eyes move down my body, scanning every inch of me,taking in the ridges of my abdomen, the deep V, leading to where I wish I could let the towel fall to the ground. But we aren’t there just yet.

---