Page 84 of Not Fooling Anyone

With the positioning of the couches and the movie turned up this loud, at least they can’t see or hear us. “We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re just laying here.”

“They’re going to think we’re doing… stuff.”

I yawn, turning my head into her hair, and breathe in her tropical-scented shampoo. “I’d at least take you in the bedroom for that.”

“Oh my God,” she mutters, turning back around, but doesn’t resist the position.

I happily settle in, watching a few more minutes of the movie before that heaviness steals over me again, stronger this time with Lexie warm against me, her body finally relaxed. After fighting the good fight as long as I can, I succumb to the lure of sleep, knowing Lexie can’t see me to know I’m asleep behind her.

I stir once as she stiffens against me, the score indicating something scary is happening on screen, but as I tighten my hold around her middle, she eases, and I relax again, my head so far down, I can’t see the screen.

The next time I wake, I skim the edge of consciousness, something that sounds like my name pulling me out of the abyss. It’s not until a hand settles on my arm that I surface a bit more, but not enough to open my eyes. The hand travels slowly over my forearm to my bicep, lingering before it glides over my shirt sleeve to my shoulder and then my chest.

It’s Lexie. As brief as it may have been last night, my body remembers her touch, committing it to memory.

“Ethan,” she whispers, and though I recognize her voice, I’m too comfortable to move, to fully wake, instead enjoying her exploration of my torso.

Her hand moves up, tracing the features of my face, barely-there caresses that have me letting out a sleepy sigh. She pauses, and I want to tell her to continue, to keep touching me, but I can’t muster the energy.

She continues again after a moment, over the bridge of my nose, my brow, then sifts her fingers gently through my hair, a tingle washing over my scalp.

Down past the column of my neck, my chest, my stomach, until she flirts with the hem of my shirt, teasing the exposed sliver of my lower abs. Oh, fuck, that’s good. If only she’d go a little lower.

She moves higher instead, under my shirt now, her palm warm as it slides over my skin, a gentle exploration I’m not sure she would do if she knew I was awake. It seems the only way I can get her to seriously touch me is if I’m asleep or she’s insanely turned on like last night.

It’s not long before sleep is the last thing on my mind, completely focused on where she travels next, how she makes shivers race across my body. I never want her to stop.

But like all good things, it comes to an end as the front door opens, Tom loud as usual entering, Sean close behind him.

Lexie retreats, her hand slipping out from under my shirt, and I silently mourn the loss of her. Shifting, I open my eyes, finding her sitting up next to me, her gaze on the entryway. My roommates don’t look our way, instead heading to the other side of the house where their respective bedrooms are.

“What time is it?” I ask, my voice scratchy.

“Almost midnight,” she whispers.

Shit. I really was out for a while. How did she not wake me before? “What happened at the end of the movie? Did the ghosts get them?”

“I actually drifted off before it ended,” she admits. “The last I remember, they tried exorcising them and failed.”

I sit up, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Sorry I fell asleep on you again. I wasted my chance to see you.”

“You see me all the time.”

“Yeah, but I was still looking forward to it.”

She looks down at her hands, the moonlight coming in from the sliding glass door illuminating her. “I was wondering if you thought tonight was us just hanging out or a… date.”

I can’t tell from her tone which one she favors. After last night, she has to be okay with the idea of the latter, right? “It’s whichever you want it to be.”

She twists her hands together in her lap. “I’m still a little blindsided by last night.”

I swallow heavily. While I’m glad she’s bringing it up rather than pretending it didn’t happen, a part of me is afraid I pushed for too much too fast. “Are you upset?”

“No, not upset. More… overwhelmed? I don’t know.” She blows out a breath. “I don’t know what to think about any of this.”

“Hey.” I take her hands, enfolding them in mine. “There’s nothing to stress about. I wanted you to feel good. Did you?”

She nods, almost reluctantly. Like she didn’t want to feel good? Or doesn’t want to admit it?

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