Junkie(27)

It was a traitor. So willing to get up this early just for some bacon.

His warm, muffled laugh brushed over me. It only made me want to burrow farther into the blankets. He stepped back, toward the table on the other side of the room, and suddenly I felt more awake.

“Here,” I said, my voice less sleepy now. I swung my feet over the side of the couch and sat up, pulling the blankets around my waist to make room for him to sit.

His plate, which was almost identical to mine (almost = less butter + more fruit), joined mine on the tabletop along with the same kind of coffee cup.

I flipped on the TV and pulled up the news so I could watch the weather report—get the conditions I might be driving in today.

The cushion on the sofa was one large, long one and it dipped a little when he sat. I was still reclined lazily against the back, staring at the moving screen on the TV, still waiting to fully wake up.

“Coffee.” The cup appeared right in front of my face. Trent was leaning close, holding it out like a beacon. He smelled like soap, the kind the hotel stocked. It was some fancy shit, and it actually was a good scent.

But it didn’t smell exactly as I recalled from my shower last night. It was slightly different, slightly more familiar. I realized it wasn’t the soap I was noticing, but Trent’s natural scent.

I glanced over, taking in his fully awake, clean-shaven face and washed hair. His hazel eyes bore flecks of gold that seemed brighter this morning, and his full lips looked slightly shiny, like they were wet.

I wondered if they would taste like coffee if I leaned forward and—

I jerked upright.

What. The. Fuck?

“Whoa.” He pulled my cup back a little and frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I hurried to say. “I’m fine.” I took the coffee, carefully avoiding his fingers, and put it up to my lips. The first sip was always the best. Always the most rewarding.

This coffee was made exactly the way I liked it. Heavy on the cream, lighter on the sugar. I knew exactly how Trent drank his brew, too. Less cream and less sugar, which gave it a slightly stronger flavor.

“We still have an hour or so if you want to catch a few more minutes of sleep.” He sounded concerned.

Who could blame him? I was being a weird ass.

He’d been worse last night, though.

Fuck, I’d tossed and turned on this stupid couch for a few hours, going over the way he acted toward the employee who brought the sheets. I’d replayed his words in my mind as if the more I did, the easier they’d be to understand.

In the end, all I got was a shitty night’s sleep.

“No, I need to wake up and get ready. I want to be there early,” I replied.

“Thought so. That’s why I went down and grabbed breakfast.”

I held out my fist between us, and we pounded it out. “Thanks, man.”

“You get any sleep last night?” he asked casually, setting aside his coffee and diving into his food. “Or were you too nervous about his morning?”

It wasn’t this morning that was on my mind last night.

“Took a while for me to fall asleep.”

He made a sound and shoved an entire piece of bacon into his mouth.

The caffeine started working into my bloodstream, giving me a little more energy, so I too tucked into my plate and starting eating.

The weather looked clear for the day, cloudy and cold, but no chance of any kind of precipitation. I was hoping most of that shit was done for and spring weather would soon be headed our way. Sometimes Maryland was tricky like that. Winter could drag itself out, or spring could roll in to stay.

Either way, we still had a couple weeks of cold weather. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any more snow to go with it.

As we finished our food and coffee, we talked strategy and basically threw out a bunch of scenarios Gamble might toss at me today at the meeting. I knew he’d want to see me drive. We were meeting at the big track here in town. Hopefully, he’d like what he saw and want to talk as well.

I didn’t bother taking another shower, but I did brush my teeth, splash my face with cold water, and trim up the scruff on my jawline. I didn’t keep a clean shave as much anymore. I knew my boss at the software place would probably like me to, but I didn’t care. I liked the way the scruff felt. It kept my face warm. And truth be told, the ladies thought it was sexy.

Who was I to disappoint?

I did keep it trimmed and neat, though. I combed my hair, too—well, with my fingers. Swept it up and over to the side using some of the wax shit Ivy told me I needed. I didn’t argue when she handed me the jar a while back. I only argued with my sister over shit I cared about.

For a long time, it sat on my dresser, until one day she marched in my room, uncapped it, and styled my hair, all the while giving me a “class” on how to look “hot.”