13. Marley

13

MARLEY

“ M mph,” I mutter when my phone buzzes on my nightstand the next morning. It’s like a laser straight through my brain and I flip over to stare at the ceiling with a groan. This is why I never drink—the hangover isn’t worth it and since I never drink, I always get one.

Two ciders.

Two .

Yet I feel like I’ve spent the night with my head in a trough of whiskey.

I reach for my phone when it buzzes again and cringe when I see ‘Mom’ across the screen. I haven’t talked to her in almost two weeks because I don’t know how to explain my living situation without her hearing the lie in my voice. I don’t know why I don’t want her to know I’m living with Liam, but it feels like she’d be working into a big old ‘I told you so’ when she finds out not everything has gone to plan like I hoped.

So I’ve stuck to text because it’s easier to curate my tone when it isn’t coming from my traitorous mouth.

I send the call to voicemail and stare at the ceiling, wishing I’d gone straight home last night.

No, that’s not entirely true. I loved meeting Gus, and the cider was delicious. But… I flinch at the memory of Liam’s hands at my waist—strong, steady—the look in his eye I’ve never seen before, and then…

I groan and flop over to my side, my cheeks flaming with the same stinging embarrassment I felt last night. I can’t believe I asked him to kiss me—no, practically begged—and that I nearly melted down in tears when he politely and rightly chose the rules over me.

I don’t know what to be most upset about, that I wanted him to, or that he didn’t want it back. How am I going to look him straight in the face from now on?

Come on, Marley, the smarter, more bad-ass girl-boss side of my brain urges, there is nothing wrong with asking for what you want when you want it.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed to sit up. Girl-boss me is right. This isn’t Regency England, and I’m not a wilting wallflower. I’ll just hold my head high and—

Lay back down because my brain feels like a rubber duck at sea.

Opening my phone, I scan my schedule for the day, mentally kicking my own ass for drinking on a weeknight, and sigh with relief when I find that my entire schedule can be done from home. Besides the bathroom and kitchen, I can stay in my room and work at my tiny desk with Stephen curled in my lap and pretend that last night didn’t happen.

As if he knew I was thinking about him, Stephen appears next to my head, nose-to-nose. I smile and pet his soft forehead—it’s my favorite spot to kiss, even if he does look like I’ve offended his entire family line when I do it.

He purrs and nudges my cheek with his wet nose, and though I’d like to think he’s comforting his ailing mother, I know it’s because I’m late feeding him by at least fifteen minutes. I mean, how dare I?

“You can’t wait just a little longer?” I ask him, scratching him hard behind the ears. “Maybe let me sleep another hour?”

He indulges me for about three seconds before he lets out a stern meow that reminds me of my mother trying to wake me up in high school. She would say it’s karma.

“Okay, fine,” I sit back up and check the time. It’s dangerously close to when Liam gets back from his run but if I hurry, I should be able to feed Stephen and grab some coffee and toast for myself.

I straighten my tank top and my pajama pants, pull my hair into a messy bun that out does the definition, and check my face in the mirror just in case. “Oh, Marl,” I say to myself as I scan the hollows below my eyes and the greyish color of my skin. I look, for the lack of a better word, like a walrus.

Stephen head butts me to remind me I need to get moving and I jump into action and fly out into the apartment. I stop dead in my tracks because it’s clean.

It’s always clean, but right now it looks like it’s ready for a photo shoot. Every surface glimmers in the sun as if it’s specifically trying to make my headache worse. “What in the what?” I ask, tiptoeing to the kitchen, afraid I might somehow ruin the perfection.

I even whisper to Stephen as I ready his food, which is ridiculous, but I can’t help it.

Once he’s happily selecting a single kibble at a time, I pop two slices of bread into the toaster, take the butter out of the fridge and pop a coffee pod into the maker.

The quiet of the apartment and the scent of the coffee brewing, lulls me into a sense of safety. My shoulders relax as I lean against the counter and take a breath, grateful I managed to avoid Liam.

Once the coffee dings, I pick up the drink, grab my plate of toast and just when I’m loaded up, seconds away from safety, the door flies open, scaring the shit out of me, sending my toast to the floor and the coffee all over the counter.

I even punctuate it with a mature scream that would sound right at home in a horror movie.

“Jesus,” Liam rushes toward me, “are you okay? I didn’t think I made that much noise.”

I grip the counter in one hand and my chest in the other, trying to figure out how to answer that as I catch my breath. I can’t tell him it was because I was so intent on avoiding this exact situation that I somehow manifested exactly that. I can’t even look him in the eye.

“Uh, sorry, I’m just a little worse for the wear from last night,” I say, busying myself with the task of cleaning up my disaster. “I’m sorry I made a mess. I’ll clean it all up.”

Liam steps toward the kitchen, setting his keys on the counter. “Let me help.”

“ No ,” I practically shout at him before taming my volume. My heart thunders at the thought of him bending down next to me, his body warmth so close I can feel it. I don’t, I can’t… “Sorry, it’s just...you don’t have to. You already made it so nice.”

He pauses as I continue to clean, still not making eye contact. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Then I do it. I do the thing I shouldn’t—I meet his gaze and feel my body come to life with exactly what I was afraid of—desire, mixed with the sickening feeling of embarrassment from my behavior the night before and the way I must look right now.

I manage a smile that I hope is convincing enough. “Yes, thank you. I don’t do well with more than one drink. I’m going to work from home today.”

He studies my face for a moment, clearly not sure whether to believe me or not. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

My throat tightens because he’s being very nice when I practically assaulted him last night and then destroyed his newly clean kitchen. “I will thank you.”

With that, he nods his head and disappears into his bedroom.

Once I’m done cleaning, I slink into mine with new coffee and toast, swearing that I’ll never come out again.