Page 42 of Facing Off
I scrub at my face.
“I hate this…” I bite out miserably.
“That’s unfortunate, Sonya.” He nods his head and sympathizes. Then says, “Anyway, where are we going? My place or yours? Or should I book a hotel for us somewhere expensive? Did you know there’s this hotel in the city where you can sleep in the middle of a swimming pool? Imagine that. Waking up. Taking a dip. It’s the best of both worlds?—”
“Do you ever get tired of talking?”
“Nope.”
Oh my God.
Hughes hums. “Now while I would love to drive around in circles, I have a feeling you’ve had a long day. My place or yours?”
I’m squeezing the edge of my seat tight.
“Your place,” I finally huff out.
Here’s the plan. I’ll let him take me to his house, then sneak out later when he’s not looking.
For the rest of the ride, I turn away from him and close my eyes. A clear signal that I don’t want to talk to him. The problem with that is that I’m not sure if I can openthem again easily. I underestimated how exhausted I am, between dancing, falling, and being at the hospital.
It doesn’t help that my seat is getting warm, as if a setting has been turned on. My aching muscles surrender against the cozy heat and more adrenaline seeps away from me. I’m fighting against yawns and starting to lose sense of my surroundings. My eyes stay closed, so I don’t know when the car parks.
I think I must be dreaming when my door opens and my seat belt’s unclipped. Or when strong arms carry me into someplace and lower me onto a cloud. The kind of expensive bed that soothes every inch of you.
Only when he tucks me in, it finally dawns on me that this is really happening. Embarrassment seizes my throat.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks.
What am I doing? Did I just let Hughes carry me to bed?I need to get out of here.
My eyes open to find him leaning over me. He’s not wearing his jersey, but what must’ve been underneath it. A half-sleeved white T-shirt revealing defined biceps.
“Do you know who you are, darling?” he asks, scanning my expression, his mouth slightly curved.
“Your worst nightmare,” I say, struggling to move. To get up. The covers are so heavy and soft.
That earns me a bigger smile. “Any headaches?”
“Only when I think about you.”
Any minute now, I’m out of here. But I’m waiting for him to leave first. Then I can make a clean getaway.
But Hughes keeps asking me concussion-related questions and seems thrilled the snarkier that my answers get, considering the way his eyes light up.
“Okay. You can go now,” I mutter. “I’m…tired. I need…rest.Alone.”
He fluffs my pillow, holding my gaze. “But will you stay?”
My shoulders tense at the implied accusation, even though it’s true. “Yeah, I will.”
No, I won’t.
He leans closer and dips his chin in a nod. “Good. I need you to let me take care of you, Sonya.”
Is there a switch inside him, because it’s been flipped again. His goofiness is gone, and the man standing over me is all business.
“You’re going to stay here where I can look after you, Sonya.”
