Page 42 of The Physical Attraction Seminar
“Shut up.”
Now that I’m up close, I give her a once over, letting my eyes linger on the spot where the hem of my shirt hits her upper thigh before snapping back up to meet her glare.
“We need to get a few things straight.” I can't help but notice the way her lips glisten with ChapStick. “You’re not sleeping on the damn balcony, Lyla. If you’re that unnerved, then I’ll gladly take the floor.”
“I mean… since you're the one offering…” She holds up her palms with a slight bounce in her shoulders.
I roll my eyes at her, even though her playful antics make it hard to be annoyed. I move one hand down, wrapping it around her waist, feeling the warmth of her body against my palm. “One more thing… I’ll give you every damn t-shirt in my closet if it means I get to see you wearing them as you fall asleep.”
Her breath hitches. Our mouths are so close I can feel the warmth from her breath on my lips. Every fiber of my being craves to taste her lips again but now is not the time. I don’t have the energy to chase her all the way to the ocean if she gets nervous and tries to run away again.
I reach over to grab a pillow from our divider, then take a step back to create some distance between us. She lays there, not making a sound, while I grab the blanket from the end of the bed and turn off the lamp on my nightstand.
Settling down on the ground, I realize that a single pillow and blanket won’t be enough to alleviate the discomfort of the unyielding hardness of the floor beneath me. It doesn’t matter, though. I'll do whatever it takes to make Lyla feel at ease, even if it means I have to make myself uncomfortable in the process.
I’m not sure how much time passes before Lyla peeks her head over the edge of the bed to look at me. All I know is that it’s been enough time for my back to start aching from struggling to find a comfortable sleeping position.
“Psst,” Lyla whispers quietly. My eyes may be shut, but I can still sense the weight of her stare drilling into me. “Are you awake?”
“Haven’t gone to sleep yet.”
Her silence lingers for a minute, but I can hear the rustling of her movements under the covers and the shifting of pillows. “Get up here, you big idiot.”
I can't suppress the quiet laugh that escapes from my throat. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“I couldn't help but feel guilty imagining you lying there all night, only to wake up with a sore back.”
With a sly grin, I slip under the sheets, welcoming the comfort of the soft bed. “So, you’re saying you were thinking about me while trying to fall asleep?”
Lyla doesn’t say anything at first, then surprises me by gently whacking me on the head with a pillow the second I get comfortable. “Stay on your side, and don’t even think about trying anything funny. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I wake up with the sun, and Lyla is curled against my side, her messy brown hair lying across my bare chest. It’s the best and worst feeling I’ve ever had. Everything I want but can’t have.
SEVENTEEN
LYLA
Session One: Couples Counseling Confessions
Barrettand I find ourselves at the end of a long, empty corridor, standing shoulder to shoulder. The only source of light is a faint glow coming from the frosted glass door ahead. When I look up at him, I notice the tiredness lingering in his eyes, even though it's already late morning. With a nod of mutual understanding, we proceed down the hall.
Slowly but surely, the sign hanging on the door starts to become visible as we approach. The sign's center is decorated with bedazzled pink and purple rhinestones, spelling out the words:
Glenda Glover:
Certified Couples Therapist, World Renowned Sexologist, Professor of Gender, Sexuality, and Health Studies, Podcast Host of “Exploring Erotica: A Bookish Podcast,” and International Bestselling Author of “Sex Ass Backwards.”
Judging by her sign, it appears that she dabbles in crafting during her free time, too. The white space surrounding her achievements is spruced up with cutouts of illustrated stock photos—kissing lips, hearts, and couples embracing—adding a touch of romance to the display. I squint, trying to figure out if the squiggle lines close to the edge are glitter glue—spoiler alert, they definitely are. I can smell the faint chemical scent of the glue as if someone had recently applied it.
Barrett and I exchange a hesitant glance.
“What do you say we have a little fun?” With a gentle nudge to my shoulder, he beams at me, trying to make the most of the situation.
I didn't think I'd be able to sleep last night after he came to bed, but the weight of exhaustion crashed over me the moment I felt him settle in. It turns out that all the worrying about his future back pain took a toll on me because I slept like a rock.
When I opened my eyes this morning, I found myself alone in bed, clutching Barrett's pillow that still held traces of his cologne. I know I shouldn't have felt disappointed, but I couldn't help it.
