Page 33 of Feuds and Interludes
“Thank you. I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say, so I turned and tried the whole chin out, tits up, cocksure walking, despite coffee dripping from my still-wet hair, my shirt sticking to me. Except, Shane followed me.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he ran to catch up to me.
“Yes. And thanks a lot for telling them I was sick. What the fuck, Shane?”
“I’m sorry. I guess Morrison told them you weren’t feeling well last night, and that I stayed to make sure you were alright. That’s all.”
By the time we reached the lodge, I was sweating on top of wearing my breakfast leftovers and Drew’s coffee, and I was ready to lose it.
“You don’t have to come in. I can take it from here,” I said as I pushed open the doors.
“Come on, Collins. Can we talk about this?”
I turned to face him. “About what? Your bandmate bumped into me? Or the fact I’m wearing my breakfast? Unless you have anything else to offer, I’m going to chalk this up to an accident, change my clothes, and get to work.” I started for the stairs and exhaled loudly when he followed again.
“I meant last night. I don’t know what went wrong but I was hoping we could be civil about it—can you quit running from me?”
We’d reached the top of the steps and my room was just a few yards away. I was almost to safety. I pulled out my key, had it in the lock, pushed the door open?—
And Shane put his hand on the door.
“I want to go back to us being able to be around each other without bickering, Boone, and I think you do, too.”
“I…” Shane was in my room, and I needed to get undressed. “Fine, we’ll be civil. It seemed clear last night that you have no interest in anything more with me, so you might want to leave.”
“No.”
I sighed and started unbuttoning my shirt, slowly. I flicked my hair back and stuck my chin out—or was it tits? Which part was supposed to stick out?—and tried to look confident.
Shane leaned back against the now-closed door and folded his arms over his chest.
“Suit yourself, but these clothes are coming off.”
Shane didn’t move.
Fuck.Fine, then it was put up or shut up time. “You are one confusing man, Shane Butler.” I finished the buttons and pulled off the flannel.
Shane covered his mouth with his hand. “I didn’t think they’d be that…dark.” He tried not to smile.
“Yeah, well, I bruise easily, so thanks for that.” I wasn’t mad about them, not at all. I was mad he hadn’t put one where everyone would see it. And wasn’t that immature on my part?
“I shouldn’t like seeing you like this, but I do.”
“What? Covered in avocado, coffee, and hickeys?”
He nodded. “I like you messy. Not trying to act like you’ve got it all under your thumb. Not trying to be perfect.”
“I’m not perfect,” I muttered, but new warmth sparked in my heart. If he saw me like this, and he didn’t run… “But last night?”
“Last night I wanted to get you out of your head and help you relax. It wasn’t supposed to be about me. But the hickeys? I wanted to be able to see them and know I put them there.”
That shut me up. When had anyone wanted only to pleaseme? People usually wanted to be seen with me, wanted to say they’d been with me as like a conquest, but that’s not what he was saying.
“I couldn’t…wasn’t ready to give you more.” He dropped his arms and put his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear.”
It dawned on me again how gentle he’d been with me, how I’d been the aggressor in the scenario. He’d been aroused, but if I’d slowed down enough to pay attention, I would have seen that he wasn’t pulling away, necessarily.
“I’m sorry if I rushed you.”
