Page 62 of Text Me Baby One More Time

“Oh.” She blushes. “Good morning. That coffee smells amazing.”

“I know.” I pull open the fridge. “I’m sorry to report that I don’t have your coffee creamer here since I wasn’t expecting you to stay over. I do have milk—will that do?”

“Ugh. I’ll settle.” She shuffles over to the island. “I hope you don’t mind but I borrowed some of your clothes.”

“Do you know how hot it is to see a girl wearing your clothes?”

“No. I’m usually annoyed when I find another girl wearing my clothes.”

I roll my eyes, and she grins.

The coffee pot dings as it finishes up the brew and I pour us each a healthy cup of caffeine.

“What woke you up so early?”

Leaning against the counter, she blows on the hot java. “I’m naturally an early riser, though I probably could have slept another hour with your blackout curtains. I owe this early wakeup to Allie…again. She wants to meet and go over maid of honor duties.”

“AJ called me too. They want to do breakfast in an hour.”

She groans. “I know. I was hoping he’d have left you out of it though.”

“Really? Even after last night?” I tease.

“Especiallyafter last night.”

“Does your mother know you lie this much?”

She pushes off the counter, sauntering into the living room. “I’m going to need more coffee to handle you today.”

I watch as she pads around the space, looking at the knickknacks scattered along the custom shelving I have built around my flat-screen.

“You don’t put your trophies out?”

“Nah. I’m full of myself, but notthatfull of myself.”

“Could have fooled me,” she smarts off. “You have a lot of balls.”

“I hardly think two is a lot, but thank you.”

She sighs. “A lot ofsignedballs.”

“Ah, yes. I do. I got most of them when I was a kid, but I’ve managed to make a couple friends and score some extras in the last couple years.”

“Must be nice to be famous.”

“I’m hardly famous, Den.”

“Around here you are. It’s kind of annoying.”

“Only kind of?” I tease.

“You’re right—it’smassivelyannoying. Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone when they’re constantly thrown in your face?”

“So you’re finally admitting you avoided me for four years?”

“I’d hardly call seeing you four times a week avoiding you.”

“But you tried. You tried real fucking hard, always running out of class first, ignoring me at the paper, dodging me around campus. I once saw you enter a bar, make eye contact with me, and then leave—tell methatisn’t avoiding me.”

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