Page 71 of Holiday Romance
“Sweet dreams,” he calls after me, and I listen for his own door to shut before I do the same to mine.
Inside, I flick on the bedside light and change out of my clothes, leaving on my underwear and T-shirt to use as pajamas before washing my face in the bathroom. With barely anything with me, it doesn’t take long to pack for the morning. My laptop bag remains untouched where Andrew had left it that afternoon and I have one spare T-shirt to wear for the journey. The rest I fold into the small bag I got them in, and I put them beside my shoes, lined up neatly at the end of the bed.
When I’m done, I pull on the thick gray robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and stand staring at the bed.
I know I need to at least try and get some sleep. That I’ll hate myself tomorrow if I don’t. But I don’t think I’ve ever been more awake, my mind jumping from one thing to the other.
My skin feels tight. My body restless.
A perfect day.
That’s what he said today was. Perfect.
There’s a shuffling noise at the wall separating us, most likely him just plugging something in, but at the sound of it I tense, suddenly achingly aware of how close he is.
Before I know what I’m doing I’m out my door, marching the two steps it takes to get to his where I knock, almost bruising my knuckles against the wood until I hear him cursing on the other side.
“Oliver,” he growls as he opens it. “I swear to God if you—”
Andrew stops talking as soon as he sees me. “Are you okay?” he asks, instantly concerned.
Am I? I think seriously about my answer as I take in his messy hair and his kind eyes and his stupid shirt saying,Yule got this.
“No,” I say, and press a hand against the center of his chest, pushing him back into the room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It’s dark on the other side of the door. He hasn’t put a lamp on yet, and the streetlights outside cast everything in an odd purple-and-orange glow. Behind him, the room is tidy. He’s barely unpacked other than his washbag and a spare T-shirt thrown on the bed, ready to wake up and go tomorrow. Ready to leave all this behind.
I shut the door at the thought, though I keep one hand on the handle just in case I chicken out.
“Molly?”
“Just don’t talk for a second.” To my surprise he does as I request, letting me stand there, taking him in silently. And I do take him in, my eyes traveling from his face, down down down to his chest, his jeans, and back up again.
Or what if you’re just super dumb and you’ve never realized what’s right in front of you?
Gabriela’s words echo through my mind as I stare at him. I stare at him for so long my hand starts to cramp against the handle and I have to let go.
“You kissed me back,” I say, and he goes so still I swear he isn’t breathing. “Not to clear my mind. Not because you thought I was being funny. You kissed me back because you wanted to.”
“I did,” he says, and my heart stutters at those two simple words. But it’s still not enough. I don’t understand and I’m not leaving here until I do.
“Have you ever wanted to kiss me before?”
“Molly—”
“Have you?”
A muscle jumps in his jaw, fascinating me before he answers. “Once,” he admits, forcing the word out. “Years ago.”
“When?”
“We have to be up in five hours. Do you really want to do this now?”
“You want to wait another ten years?”
He scoffs but doesn’t argue further, looking almost embarrassed the more I watch him. “Our third flight,” he says eventually, and then, so quietly that I’m not even sure I heard him right: “You were wearing a red scrunchie.”
