“Oh, Bree. From Abbott Springs?”
“The one and only,” I sing-songed. I attempted a little curtsy but nearly fell over.
Tim/Tom steadied me with a big hand on my arm. “Easy there.”
Pushing to my tiptoes, I peeked over his head into the common space of the quad. “Is Kennedy around?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not sure where he is.” He pulled the door wide and gestured me inside. “You want me to give him a call?”
I waved away the suggestion as I sauntered into the tiny apartment. “I want to surprise him.” I giggled again. Damn. I wasn’t the giggling type. “I’ll just wait for him in his room,” I said, heading toward the first of the four doors branching off the living area.
“Um, that’s my room,” Tim/Tom said.
“Oopsie!” Another giggle slipped from my lips. Okay, so I’d probably overdone it on that peppermint schnapps I’d been sipping since I got off the plane.
“Not that you’re not welcome there. You absolutely are.” He winked at me. He was cute. Really cute. Not like Kennedy. No, Kennedy wasn’t even cute. He was panty-dropping sexy.
Kennedy. I grinned stupidly just thinking about what was about to happen. Finally.
“Which one is Kennedy’s?” I asked.
“Back right.”
“Awesome. Thanks.”
“Can I get you anything?” he asked as I headed for Kennedy’s door. Who knew walking in a straight line could be so much fun? Like the balance beam as a kid. Whee. “Maybe water or something to eat?”
So I could sober up and lose my nerve? Hardly. “I’m good, Tim/Tom,” I slurred. “Don’t need a thing.”
I pushed into Kennedy’s room and shut the door behind me. It smelled like him in here. That shouldn’t have taken me by surprise. His smell was just an amalgamation of his shampoo, aftershave, and laundry detergent, so it made sense that it would follow him to school. And yet it reminded me so much of his bedroom at home that it almost stole my courage.
I walked around the small space, running my fingers over the shirts hanging in his closet, peeking at the stack of textbooks on his desk and the graded term paper in the trash. An A-. He probably hated that minus. Such a smarty pants.
Kennedy was the guy who had rallied our tiny high school’s football team for the last quarter victory. He was the guy who’d received straight A’s while working part time for his father’s company and volunteering on weekends. He was preppy and reliable and he didn’t make mistakes. But me? Mistakes were my bag, and the only A I’d known in school was the A in “See me after class.”
Would he see my being here tonight as just another impulsive screw-up in a long line of Bree Baxter screw-ups? Or could he put his practical self aside for one night and give in to the sexual tension that had been simmering between us since we were teenagers?
The initial buzz of being in his space was wearing off, and I sank to the edge of his bed. I’d lost my job in New York City, and in true Kennedy problem-solving fashion, he’d spent half of last weekend on the phone with me trying to convince me to come back to Ohio for college.
“You could make it home to Abbott Springs more often,” he’d said. “It’ll be like old times. I miss your face, Bree.”
No. After five years of “just friends,” it was time. I wanted more from Kennedy. A lot more.
“All or nothing,” I murmured. Then I took off my clothes. Everything—my shirt, my jeans, my bra, and my panties. I threw them all into a rumpled pile in the corner and slid into his bed.
I imagined his reaction at finding me here. His shock. His disbelief. And finally his arousal. I imagined him pulling back the sheets and his eyes touring my nude form. I imagined the look on his face as he fought the need to touch me and then me extending my hand and inviting him to lose that fight once and for all.
In my mind, Kennedy was mine. He just didn’t know it yet.
I wished he would hurry and come home so we could get to the good part already. My peppermint schnapps buzz was taking me through that inevitable shift from tipsy to sleepy, and the scent of his aftershave on his pillow made me so relaxed that my eyes started to float closed.
I drifted in and out of sleep, my dreams a patchwork quilt of memories and fantasies.
Memory. Kennedy’s arms around me after a nightmare, my back pressed into his solid chest as he whispered soothing words into my ear and I floated back to sleep. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”
Fantasy. His fingers dipping past the waistband of my sleep pants. His reassuring whispers turning to hesitant requests. “Let me touch you, Bree. I’ve wanted this for so long.”