Chapter 12

My wakeup call is Wood singing "Driver's License" by Olivia Rodrigo down in the kitchen—if one could call that singing, it's more like wailing.

With one eye open, I check my phone. It's almost nine in the morning. And I have a message from Angel, from only a few minutes ago. I grin.

ANG3L:

Maybe…we should meet?

Holy shit.

2Horned:

Tell me when

I can't tell if the speed of my pulse is from excitement or anxiety at the thought. The three little black dots pop up.

ANG3L:

I'll be out of town next week over the Fourth of July weekend (it's also my birthday) so maybe after that?

2Horned:

I'm going out of town next weekend, too

so that works for me

Also, happy birthday! 22, right?

It's kind of a crazy coincidence, Livvy's birthday is over that weekend as well. It's on the fourth, actually. That's probably not a very common birthday. I ignore the urge to ask Angel which day is hers—I don't want to push for too many specifics too soon.

ANG3L:

Yes! Thank you

I walk downstairs to the scent of bread filling the apartment. Wood is in full-apron mode, oven mitts on both hands as he pulls two loaves of bread out of the oven to join the—Jesus Christ—five other loaves on the counter.

"That's a lot of bread."

Wood smiles, wiping some flour off his forehead with the back of his arm. "I've been baking since five-thirty. It relaxes me. There's sourdough, wheat, rye, banana bread, banana bread with chocolate chips, zucchini bread, and a cinnamon swirl loaf. Be careful, that one's hot."

"Wow, it smells so good out here." Livvy comes out, a sleepy look still in her eyes, her light brown hair tousled, barefaced, the tiny freckles across her nose more visible than usual.

She's wearing my T-shirt again.

"Thanks." Wood beams. "I just got the urge. Takes my mind off stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

Wood looks at her with his lopsided grin but his eyes dodgy. "Um…just stuff and things. Here, let me get you some."

As he's slicing each loaf of bread, Livvy and my eyes meet.

She instantly flushes and my cheeks start burning as well as memories of last night come flooding back. Not only because of what she saw me doing last night in the loft, but also because of what I did after.

I got off with Angel, that wasn't new, and the picture she'd sent had me going immediately. It was hot, it was perfect, just like I knew she would be.

But then I'd found myself thinking about Livvy. How she looks in her little white shorts and tank top. How the tips of her nipples clearly strain against the thin fabric when they're hard. How her pouty lips were parted, and she let out a little gasp when she saw me with my cock in my hand.

My cock had throbbed when I saw her watching me. Looking at me, looking at it. I'd wanted her to stay. The words were dancing around my tongue. Don't go. Come here.

Of course, I didn't say that. And after she'd left, I'd tried to focus on Angel. On her words. On her picture. But since I don't know what her face looks like, my brain kept filling in the gaps—with Livvy. Livvy's face was on that body. And then it was Livvy's naked body under mine. Her scent. Her moans.

I came harder than I have in a long time. Maybe ever.

And it was all Livvy.

Livvy's eyes are wide when Wood hands her a plate piled high with warm slices of bread.

"I made some honey butter, too, if you want."

"Oh, yes, please. Thank you." Livvy takes the heaping plate of bread and sits down.

I sit next to her with my coffee, and she mouths help me. I chuckle and take the piece of zucchini bread, devouring it before Wood has a chance to sit down.

Bex saunters out to the kitchen, yawning in an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt and little athletic shorts, just as Wood sits down with us.

"Have some bread," Wood says.

"Wood made bread," Livvy says, biting her lip and smirking.

"A lot of bread," I add.

"Holy shit." Bex gets the blender out and sets it by the sink along with ingredients to make a smoothie.

"So…" Wood says casually while slathering honey butter on his banana bread. "What happened last night?"

"What do you mean?" I ask at the same time that Livvy says, "Nothing."

Bex starts the blender, and it whirls to life in all its deafening glory, crushing up the fruit and ice, the sound of it vibrating off all the hard surfaces in the kitchen.

Livvy and I exchange a glance, her pretty blush returning to her cheeks and ears.

She's thinking about last night again. I know it. And so am I.

The blender stops. Wood's mouth is full of banana bread.

"I mean," he says, chewing, "does anyone have any news to share? Any new developments?"

I shoot a look to Livvy again. He's not talking about what she saw me doing last night. There's no way he'd know about that.

Then why are your hands sweaty?

He's getting at something else, but I don't know what it is.

"Ugh." Bex walks around the counter with her giant purple smoothie. "I have some news." She plops down next to Livvy and takes a sip of her smoothie. It's thick. It takes forever to inch up the straw.

She finally gets some to her lips.

Wood's knee is bouncing, eyes on her. "What is it? What's the news?"

She swallows. "Oh, so get this. Last night at their anniversary dinner Spencer told Macy that since he's going out of town this week for a work conference, and his brother is living there right now, too, he doesn't think it's"—she uses air quotes and rolls her eyes—"appropriate for her to stay there alone with his brother."

"That's an icky thing to say," Livvy says, scrunching up her face.

"Right? He actually wanted her to find somewhere else to stay this week. So fucked up."

Wood is unusually quiet, buttering more bread.

"So, anyway," Bex continues, "I'm going to be staying over at Spencer's place with Macy and his brother this week."

Wood looks up from his bread. "Did he propose last night?"

"Oh! And that!" Bex takes a long pull from her smoothie again, Wood biting the inside of his cheek, adding impossibly more honey butter to his already slathered bread.

"Nope," Bex finally says. "He didn't propose. Macy was disappointed." She slurps her smoothie some more.

I'd have thought he'd be happy she didn't get engaged last night. But he's not.

Wood's mouth is set in a hard line, his jaw clenched as he tosses his bread to his plate. "He's an idiot." His chair screeches across the floor as he gets up and leaves.

Bex nudges Livvy, her straw between her teeth. "Looks like we need to get on that apartment hunting sooner than later."

Livvy nods.

My chest tightens. A pang—unexpected, unwelcome—hits me at the thought of her not being around. I was just getting used to having her here. Eating together, her silly reality show on in the background, watching over her…

She's a natural.

It's been less than a week of training her as an apprentice and she's already taking the tattoo gun apart and cleaning it exactly like I showed her. Her soft, delicate fingers handling the machinery like a pro.

I don't need to sit here and watch her—she's doing a great job. Her attention to detail is impressive. But I don't feel like doing anything else. Being anywhere else.

She sat with me all day today, while I did a six-hour piece. Right next to me. The scent of her hair—strawberries and something else—affected my thoughts all day.

I realize I'm sitting too close, leaning in more than necessary. Trying to get a hint of that scent again. What is the something else? I can't place it.

"The piece you did today was beautiful," she says, handing me the cleaned parts to put away.

"Thanks."

She sweeps her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, exposing the side of her neck. Her skin is so smooth. Flawless. That little spot, where neck meets shoulder—the perfect place to nuzzle and kiss…

"Noah?"

I tear my eyes off that spot and up to her eyes. "Huh? Sorry, I was spacing out. What were you saying?"

"I can tell." She laughs, lightly touching my arm. "It's okay, that was a long session. I'm sure you're tired. I was asking how long until you think I'll be starting to tattoo on real skin."

"That won't be for quite a while. Unless you want to start practicing on yourself."

She tilts her head to the left, the corners of her mouth turning up into a devilish little smirk. "Can I practice on you?"

"Me?"

She nods. "Yeah. Why not?"

I smile. "I'm about out of real estate. Where are you suggesting, exactly?"

"From what I could see the other night, your butt looked pretty bare. No one would see it."

I thought we were doing the whole, "pretend it never happened" approach to our little accidental encounter the other night. But here she is, bringing it up.

My cock twitches.

"You want to tattoo my ass?"

"Were you saving it for something special?"

I laugh. Harder than I have in a while.

"No, I guess not."

She quirks an eyebrow at me and I'm going to be letting her tattoo my ass, aren't I?

"I'll get you some pig skin soon," I say.

But I'm smiling at how much I don't hate the thought of her tattooing my ass when Anthony strolls up. Sidling up next to where Livvy is sitting, leaning against the wall, flexing his arms, cocky grin.

"'Sup." He winks at her.

His face is extremely punch-able.

She stands, smiling at him. A big, breathtaking smile that's all teeth and peachy cheeks and red lips…

"Oh hey, Anthony."

I don't want her smiling like that at him. I want her to smile like that for me.

Only me.

"So, uh—" His gaze lazily slides from her face down to her chest.

I have to physically unclench my jaw.

"I didn't get the chance to ask after our last date—" He glances at me as he clears his throat.

The image of his arms around her, her hands on his waist, his lips on hers clouds my vision. My hand aches. I put down the tattoo gun grip I've been holding—or squeezing.

"—but I wanted to ask you, in person, if you wanted to go out with me again some time."

No.

No.

Say no.

Her smile widens and she nods. "Yes, I'd love to go out again!"

I don't know where this voice in my head is coming from, but it's screaming. No. Mine. Don't go out with him. Go out with me.

And there it is.

Fuck.

It's not protectiveness. It's jealousy.

I want Livvy.

I'm in a foul mood all evening. Livvy and I eat in silence in the dark apartment, a single light on in the kitchen. It's storming outside, wind and thunder at the windows while rain pelts against the glass.

She keeps looking at me with her big eyes.

I don't know what to say or how to act. I'm an asshole. I'm supposed to be her friend. Roommate. Boss. I've known her since she was little. I'm not supposed to be pining for her. Thinking about her perfect curves. Jerking off to her. Wondering what her lips taste like. Or pissed off that Anthony knows that answer.

I rinse the dishes and she loads them into the dishwasher. We don't say anything.

Normally we'd be talking. Laughing. She'd put on her ridiculous show, and I'd pretend I wasn't just as invested as her to see who Ainsley is hooking up with now and who's talking behind Braxton's back.

She puts the last glass on the rack then turns toward me. "Are you mad at me? Did I do something?"

Shit. "No, Liv. No, you didn't, I'm sorry. It's me, I'm just in my head tonight is all. Thinking about stuff."

She steps closer, her arm brushing my elbow. "Is something bothering you? Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. No, I don't want to talk about how badly I want to kiss her and how I want her to tell Anthony to fuck off and spend time with me, instead. Only me.

Mine.

"No," I say. "I'm fine. I'm sorry I've been in a bad mood. And I'm sorry about the other night, too."

"You were in a bad mood the other night, too?" She scrunches her face up in the most adorable way and it makes me smile.

"No, I mean when you saw me, um…upstairs."

"Oh!" She turns red and I regret saying anything.

I want to make her feel many things—happy, safe, content, aroused…but not embarrassed. Never embarrassed.

"I'm the one who should be saying sorry about that," she says, not looking me in the eyes. "I mean, this is your place and I just wandered up there in the middle of the night. Next time, I'll make sure to announce myself. Loudly."

She looks up and smiles at me and it warms me from the inside.

"Honestly, I didn't think you were home, and on the off chance you were, it was so quiet and dark I didn't want to wake you if you were sleeping?—"

She's cute when she rambles.

"You don't need to worry about that. I hardly ever sleep."

"You don't sleep?"

"Not much. Insomnia."

She grimaces. "That sucks. I have a friend who has a hard time sleeping, too. I can't even imagine."

"Yeah. It's even worse on the couch."

"Oh my god." She takes a step back, her eyes widening, mouth dropping in horror, hand going to her chest. "And I've taken your bed."

Fuck. "No, no, no. Don't worry about it."

"No, we need to switch. I'll take the couch. Bex is with Macy tonight, so it works out."

"Absolutely not. You get the bed."

She crosses her arms over her chest, narrows her eyes, and purses her lips. "I'm not going to let this go."

"It's nonnegotiable. I won't let you sleep on the couch while you're staying here."

"Fine," she says, lifting her chin.

"Good. We're in agreement."

"We'll just both sleep in the bed, then."

It takes me a second to register her words. I must not have heard correctly. "What?"

"You won't let me sleep on the couch and I won't be the reason you can't get better sleep in your bed. So, us both sleeping in it seems to be the only solution to me."

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why not?"

Because I want to fuck you.

"Um." Shit.

"I promise I don't have cooties. It's just sleeping on the same mattress. Is it that big of deal?"

Yes. "No, I guess not. Are you sure?"

She laughs and reaches out, touching my arm lightly. "Yes, I'm sure it's no big deal."

So now we're brushing our teeth, in tandem, in front of the mirror in my bathroom. Her in her thin white tank top that rides up, showing a strip of bare stomach and the shorts that barely cover her ass.

And I have to stand here pretending I don't know exactly what she looks like under those clothes. That I don't know how smooth her skin is over her hip bones. The color of her nipples.

Don't get a boner while brushing your teeth, Jesus Christ.

Even the way she spits out her toothpaste is fucking cute. What is happening to me?

We pad down the hall to my room in darkness and quiet—except for the storm. Wind howling. The rain, a constant thrum.

The sliver of moon shining through the curtains puts her in silhouette, the lavender light a crescent around the curves of her hips and breasts, her hair glowing in the hazy darkness.

She slips into my bed, and I follow, like a puppy, hopelessly lost.

My heart thrashes against my chest as I lie next to her.

A rustle of sheets. She shifts, the mattress dips. Quiet breaths. Her scent is all over my pillow, entwined in the sheets and filling up the room. The heat of her body radiates toward me.

She's everywhere. In my head. In my bed. Inches away. And yet, I can't touch her.

The wind is a low hum, the rain a tinkling spatter against the windows.

Livvy sighs.

A soothing symphony of sounds. A safeness. Lulling me away, pulling me further into a dark space where I can float into nothingness.

"Noah," Livvy whispers.

I open my eyes.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes," I whisper back.

"What do you want tattooed on your ass?"

I let out a hard laugh. "I don't know. Can I think about it?"

"Hm. Yes."

"What would you pick?"

"Wait—for your ass or mine?"

"I didn't know yours was on the table." Stop picturing her ass.

"It's not—I don't think."

"Well, if you do ever want your ass tattooed, you've got to let me be the one to do it."

"Deal," she says softly.

I roll onto my back, listening to the storm and the way her breaths slow and even out until, finally, I can't hear them anymore at all.

"Livvy," I whisper. "Are you awake?"

She doesn't answer.

I exhale, staring at the ceiling, preparing for the unending thoughts to start worming their way in. The memories that keep me awake. The conversations never had. Everything that's been nagging at my brain, any worry that's been creeping around the edges of my mind, are all about to flood to the surface now.

Livvy lets out a sweet sigh and rolls toward me, pressing the side of her body against me. And now all I can think about is her. Next to me, touching me. Her warmth. Her scent.

I close my eyes to the sound of the rain.

I don't wake up until the sun is streaking through the curtains. Livvy is next to me, unmoving. Soft, rhythmic breaths. Her feet have tangled with mine in the night, but I won't move and risk waking her.

I slept all night. For the first time in years. Since I was a teenager. Since before.

Livvy's dark lashes are fanned across her cheeks, hair sparkling golden in the morning sunshine. The light dances around her, warming her skin. So much skin. Her bare arms and delicate shoulders, her slender neck, across her collarbone, and down to the soft flesh of her breasts, which are trying to free themselves from her tank top.

Ignoring how just the tiniest peek of a single pink nipple has my cock throbbing, I tug on the strap of her tank top, twisting and pulling it up to cover her.

A hard knock rattles the door and vibrates through the room.

"Livvy," Wood calls from the other side.

Her eyes open, my fingers still intertwined in the strap of her shirt.

Shit.