Page 45 of Endurance
A sympathetic look creases my brow. “She misses you, too. She talks about you all the time you know?”
She looks up with a childlike smile. “She does?”
I nod. “We’re on the road together a lot, so there’s plenty of time for talking. She’s incessantly singing your praises. At work, as a friend, whatever. It’s completely mental because you two are bloody flatmates and you act like you’ve got countries separating you.”
She sighs. “We’re best friends.”
I nod. “I get it.”
“Is Camden your best friend? You two seem to have a rather natural bromance about you.”
I huff. “I suppose so. But it’s different for brothers I think. And with him at Arsenal and me at Bethnal…we’re changing.”
Belle giggles. “God, we’re a couple of pathetic mopes, aren’t we? Moaning over people we miss in our lives and we can’t even have sex with them.”
This makes me laugh. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you and Indie have a go at it.”
“Gross!” she exclaims. “Better, you and Camden get busy. I can just seeTwin Brother Dearestblowing up as the next hot new romance novel.”
“God, you’re disgusting,” I chuckle.
“You like it.”
I squeeze her to me and trail my hand down her back in smooth, comforting motions. We settle into a natural, comfortable sort of silence on the bathroom floor next to the toilet. It’s peculiar but something that feels right in some ways.
“I think I’m good to go to bed now.” Belle’s voice interrupts my brooding.
I nod and stand to help her up. I watch her as she brushes her teeth, eyeing her handbag on the floor in the bathroom as we walk out. She slips into her closet and changes into a long cotton T-shirt. I strip down to my boxer briefs and tell her I’m going to go use the loo one last time before we go to bed.
Closing myself in the bathroom, I riffle through her bag until I find her mobile. Swiping the screen, I’m grateful to see there’s no lock on it as I pull my text messages up and delete all the crazy-sounding ones. After that, I tuck it away and ignore the fact that I’m trying way too hard to look cool.
When I slip into bed, she curls up next to me like it’s the most natural thing ever. I guess I just let it be because, all in all, this hasn’t been the worst night of my life.
THE NEXT MORNING,IWAKEto find Tanner perusing the shelves of my built-in bookcase. He’s standing in the morning light, wearing nothing but his underwear like an inky, muscly, mussed-up wet dream. The sight does wonders for a hangover, I’ll tell you that.
He picks up one of the several small drawings that I have stacked one right after another, similar to my books. I have so many drawings. I’ve been making them since I was five. It was a hobby my mother and father both pushed on me adamantly. I think mostly because it was something I was quiet while doing, and a quiet Belle made for a happy mummy and daddy.
A smirk plays on Tanner’s lips as he stares at one longer than normal.
“Which one is it?” I croak, my voice hoarse.
He jumps and his eyes snap to mine. With a sheepish shrug, he turns it around to face me. It’s a self-portrait I drew when I was fourteen, but I defiled it by adding devil horns, a pitch fork, and a curly mustache.
“That’s my parent’s favourite one.”
He chuckles. “I hardly believe that. You were quite cute, metal mouth and all. Are those dungarees you’re wearing?”
“Hey, they were in style back then!” I screech, feeling my headache a bit more now.
Tanner points to the bedside table. “There’s water and aspirin right there.”
I turn and snatch them up quicker than I thought humanly possible with this kind of hangover. “You just making yourself at home now? Digging around my medicine cabinet?”
His brows lift. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you swallowed the pills.”
“All right, all right, keep your shirt on. It’s not even nine.”
“Speaking of, don’t you have to work?” he asks.
