Page 17 of Half-Hearted
Alexis sauntered to the bed, took one look at the screen, and… promptly turned it off.
Huh.“Everything alright?”
“Yup.” She shrugged. “Nothing important.”
I’d probably have believed her had I not seen the messages myself. There wasn’t a single thing in her expression or demeanor that would indicate she wasn’t being truthful.
“This is for me?” Alexis nudged a chin at the water and aspirin sitting on the bedside table.
I nodded, keeping my gaze locked on her face. A small voice in the very back of my head kept saying that it really looked like she’d been crying.
It also kept insisting that I was somehow responsible.
“Thank you.”
I hesitated, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as I watched her gulp the water down. “So… about last night—”
“Are you hungry?”
“Lex—”
“I’m starving. We should order—”
“Alexis.” I took a step forward, eyes still glued to what I suspected to be a carefully crafted expression. She wasn’t meeting my gaze, though.
What had her friends said about us?
Something akin to frustration flickered across her features, momentarily tightening them. But when she looked at me again a half second later, her face was entirely relaxed. “You’re right,” she purred, gently placing her empty glass on the bedside table. “I can think of a million other, much more fun things we could be doing instead.”
I… what?
I gaped back at her in utter disbelief as she sunk down to the mattress, crossed her legs, and shot me a sultry smile like she hadn’t just been sick. “Plus, we never actually finished our conversation from last night, did we?”
“You’re joking.” The mere fact that she was sitting upright and not curled up into a ball of groans and curses was, in itself, a miracle.
It was the exact wrong thing to say. I knew it the second the words tumbled out of my mouth. Because this time when the exasperation surfaced, there was no question about what it was. It rumpled her perfectly shaped brows and flatlined her lips. “That’syour response?”
And instead of backtracking, I doubled down. “What else would my response be? You’re hungover as all hell,” I tried to reason. “And probably still a little drunk—”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Okay, but I still don’t think—”
“Fine. Let’s play the hypothetical game, then,” she bit out, fists clenched tight around my duvet as her anger unexpectedly flared.What the actual hell?“Let’s say I wasn’t drunk or sick or hungover or whatever other excuse you want to come up with. Let’spretendlike I’m completely sober, sitting on your bed, telling you to come over here and have your way with me. If that were the case, what would you do?”
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck were prickling the way they only did when there was a big thunderstorm brewing. Except that a quick glance out the window showed nothing but clear summer skies.
“Joel.” Impatience. Exasperation. Agitation. “What would you do?”
I frowned. “Seriously, what’s gotten into you?”
“Just answer the question.”
“No. Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”
“All of a sudden?” she snapped. “You’re seriously going to stand there and try to pretend likeanyof this is even remotely new?” Her rising voice was rippling with frustration, as though what I’d said had been an outright insult to her intelligence.
There was no winning for me today, was there? “I don’t remember the last time you showed up to my apartment unannounced and wasted in the middle of the night, kissed me, then demanded to know whether or not I’d like to have sex with you the next day instead of apologizing. So yeah, Lex, I’d classify this as new territory for us.” One that I definitely wasn’t supposed to be trespassing onto.
