30. Darcy

CHAPTER 30

DARCY

When Hayden opens my bedroom door and sees me curled up on my bed, crying, his expression hardens.

"Hey, hey, hey." The bed sinks as he sits beside me, hand brushing over my hair. "What's going on?"

"Kit called."

His hand stills on my hair. "What?"

I recap the conversation as tears continue to fall. While he listens, he strokes my hair, watching with concern. When I'm done, he lies down beside me and gathers me into his chest, pulling me half on top of him.

"Honey," he murmurs, mouth on my temple, breath on my cheek.

After how I've been freaking out about our practice kiss, we shouldn't be doing this, but he smells so good. His heartbeat against my ear is calming, and he's so warm. I like when he calls me honey , too. He probably calls tons of women that, but I don't care. I'm taking all the comfort I can get right now.

"Do you think I'm changing?" I ask quietly.

A beat passes where he doesn't say anything, but his arm tightens around my back. "Yes and no. You're learning to do new things, and you're figuring out who you are without him." His hand lingers on the back of my hair, warm and heavy. "But you're still the same Darcy we all know and love."

"That's how I feel, too." I wipe a tear away. "I feel like the same person, just better."

His hand stroking over my hair combined with his steady, slow heartbeat under my ear lulls me into a sense of calm.

"He'll be okay," Hayden murmurs. "He just needs time. Just like you."

I wake the next morning to sunlight streaming into my room because I forgot to close the blinds.

Both physically and emotionally, I feel brand new and clear-headed. For the first time in a month and a half, I'm well rested and my eyes don't feel gritty and dry. I usually toss and turn throughout the night, but I don't remember waking up once. It's the best sleep I've had since I broke up with Kit.

I'm also draped over Hayden while he sleeps half-naked in my bed.

My pulse skyrockets, tripping and stumbling, and I blink, eyes wide.

We're still in the same position as last night, but the duvet covers us. Hayden's only wearing tight black boxer briefs, and while I'm still in my t-shirt, I've lost my pajama bottoms, wearing only underwear.

He's on his back, tucking me close to him with an arm around my back. My thigh is wedged between his, and I'm pressed against him, my full weight on him from head to toe. He's even caught my cold feet between his calves.

There's something about the softness to his expression, the handsome lines on his face, the tilt to his mouth, even in sleep, that makes my heart squeeze. When I start to shift off him, careful not to wake him, his arm tightens, locking me against his body.

His breathing changes, and his eyes open, bleary and adorable in the morning light. His mouth kicks up into a calm smile.

There's a shift in my body, like the clouds are clearing.

"You fell asleep." His voice is gravelly. Neatly trimmed golden-blond chest hair spans his muscled torso, trickling down his abs into his waistband. "I didn't want to wake you." He glances down at himself. "I must have pulled my clothes off in my sleep. Sorry. I get warm."

I can feel exactly how warm he is when I'm splayed out on him like this. A pathetic noise of acknowledgment slips out of me, and I nod, gaze tracing over all the lines and ridges of his perfect body.

God, he's so hot. He's so big . Hayden is just… so much. All broad chest, thick limbs, and muscular thighs.

I shift again, and the impressive erection that pressed into me while we practice-kissed at the cast party? It's pressing into my hip.

Our eyes meet, and my mind goes blank. Heat grows behind my clit. I have the overwhelming urge to run my palm down his chest, over his straining length. To pull the waistband of his boxers down and let his erection spring free.

I'd push him between my lips and take him all the way to the back of my mouth. A deep pressure builds between my legs when I imagine what his groan would sound like. Maybe he'd put his hand on the back of my head. Maybe he'd tell me how good it feels.

His breathing turns uneven as he looks down at my mouth. I told Hayden sex is supposed to be warm and predictable, but the hard bar of his arousal against my hip doesn't feel sweet or relaxing .

It feels like I want to fuck my best friend.

"Darce," he breathes, like a question mixed with a plea, and the hot look in his eyes crumbles my resolve. I move an inch toward his mouth?—

Something starts jingling in my room, and we snap apart. A phone alarm, coming from the floor. I slide off him and he reaches over the side of the bed.

"Is that me or you?" I ask, searching for my phone.

"Me." He turns the alarm off and swings his legs to the floor so he's sitting and facing away. My eyes move over his toned back and waist before I yank my gaze elsewhere.

I'm still in my panties, too. I think I'm wet. Can he tell? God. Hayden stands, and his eyes follow as I haul the duvet over myself.

He turns away. "I should get ready for practice."

"Me, too. I mean, I should get ready for work."

His shoulders look tense as he tilts his chin to the bed. "Sorry about that."

"No." My eyebrows shoot up. "It was me. I fell asleep and you were just being a good friend."

His jaw ticks and he rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah."

A weird pause between us.

"Next time, I'll use the man chest doll you got me," I joke, but he doesn't laugh. He's probably freaking out that I'm going to get all clingy or get the wrong idea about us. "Okay, well." I give him a cheerful smile to show him I won't make this weird. "Have a great day at practice. See you tonight?"

He nods tightly, not looking at me. "I'll be late. I'm going to beer league with Miller."

"Nice." He and Rory sometimes play on a rec center hockey team with a bunch of regular guys. "That'll be fun."

"Yep. See ya."

"See ya. "

He closes the bedroom door behind him, and I flop back down onto the pillows, blowing out a long breath.

Sleeping half-naked in the same bed with my roommate and wingman is dancing into dangerous territory, and I won't be doing that again, no matter how good it felt.

That evening after work, I've stopped at a drugstore to pick up more toothpaste when a row of colorful pots on the shelf catches my eye.

Temporary hair dye.

You would look amazing with purple hair , Georgia said.

I pause, pulling down the purple one to inspect it. That impulsive, devilish urge inside me wakes up. I feel like doing something wild.

Why? Kit asked last night with disdain, and I feel a sharp twist of resentment in my stomach. I liked your hair before .

Anger rises in my throat as I stare at the jar.

There's no good reason to dye my hair purple. It isn't going to get me ahead in my career, it'll probably be hard to maintain, and there's no guarantee that it'll look good.

And yet excitement trickles through me, making my stomach dip. It's like the dress Georgia found for me—I won't know until I try.

Besides, I think it'll make me happy, and maybe that's enough.

Maybe I'm not the old Darcy anymore.