Page 78 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

“What does it say?” I asked.

He held it up, reading from the screen. “‘You should tell him you’re a virgin. It will make ravaging you that much more fun for him.’”

I cringed, wishing I could sink below my bed and hide next to the boogeyman. Instead, I lay there, facing Tyler and his critical gaze.

“Is this true?” he asked.

“That you’d have more fun ravaging me? I think you’re the only one who can answer that.”

His frown only deepened. “Henrietta.”

My cheeks warmed, and I felt like a little kid being caught with my hand in the candy jar. But I couldn’t lie to him, couldn’t keep the secret anymore. “That was my first time.”

His jaw went slack, and he scrubbed his hand over his chin as if in disbelief. “There’s never been anyone else? Youaretwenty-eight, aren’t you? I didn’t accidentally hook up with some teenage intern?”

Now it was my turn to glare at him. “Does this body look like a teenager’s?”

A small flame sparked in his eyes, but he quickly put it out, coming to sit next to me and speaking gently. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was embarrassed!” I cried. “It’s not exactly the best pickup line. ‘Hi, my name’s Henrietta. I live with my parents, and no one’s ever been interested enough to round home base.’ You would have run away screaming.”

He reached for my hands. “Not true. Especially after I found out how good you could cook.”

The joke would have made me laugh if my chest wasn’t feeling so tight.

Running his thumbs over the back of my hands, he said, “If I would have known, I would have... I don’t know, been more careful with you. Were you crying because you were hurt? Are you bleeding?”

I bit down on my lip, considering my words. “I was crying because I’ve never felt closer to anyone else than I have to you today. I’m so lucky to know you, Tyler. To be loved by you.”

His eyebrows lifted, and I instantly backtracked. “Not saying you’re in love with me, but—”

He stopped my words with a kiss, and when he pulled back, he held my face in his hand. “I do love you, Henrietta Jones. I love you.”

Tears filled my eyes again for completely different reasons. “I love you too, Tyler.”

He kissed me again, and with both of us naked in bed, it quickly became heated. He pulled back, still close enough for me to feel his breath on my cheek. “I’ll make sure you never want anyone else.”

47

Tyler

We spent all night in bed, drifting between sleep and lustfulness, exploring each other’s bodies and making each other feel so damn good. It was heaven, and I knew I’d been a damn fool to think I would ever be okay with goodbye. So when Henrietta was sleeping, around two in the morning, I ordered plane tickets for us to visit home for Thanksgiving, just a couple months away now.

I wanted to convince her that Cottonwood Falls could be home. Show her all the trees that lined the creeks as their leaves changed to orange and gold. Introduce her to my mama and have her drive around to check cattle with my dad. Yell at my brother Rhett for flirting with her and my sister, Olivia, for sharing too many embarrassing secrets. I wanted to show her the high-rise where Gage worked and the incredible view from his office at night.

And most of all, I wanted her to fall in love with Texas like I’d fallen for her, because this feeling I had? Just thethoughtof it ending ripped me to shreds. But I wouldn’t focus on that. I’d focus on this beautiful girl and the feeling I had in my chest. Like I had everything I needed right in front of me.

I rolled to my side, taking her in. She slept so peacefully, just like she had on my couch the night before. I loved her awake, but this quiet, serene side of her was beautiful too. If she woke up now, I knew she’d laugh at me for staring, but I enjoyed this immensely. Just as much as I liked lying next to her as I slowly fell asleep.

* * *

Normally I’d gofor a run when I woke up, but this was a special morning, and my girl was getting a special breakfast. Even if I had to look through every drawer and cabinet in this kitchen to find what I was looking for.

That yellow box I used to make pancakes at home was nowhere to be found, so I used my phone to look up ingredients for pancakes and got to mixing. I was halfway through the batch when I heard a yawn behind me.

Henrietta was shuffling into the kitchen, her black robe tied at the waist and her gray slippers swishing against the new vinyl floor. With her hair tied in a messy bun atop her head and her eyes half closed, she still looked half asleep.

“Not a morning person?” I asked.

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