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Daylight is streaming through the sheer curtains.
Daylight. Not early morning light, but full-on daylight.
“Fuck,” I mumble. I take a second to get my bearings. The stylishly decorated room, thick comforter, clothes that aren’t my own. My head is pounding. I’d forgotten how the aftermath of the panic attacks affect me. My phone is nowhere to be found and there is no clock in this room.
A pitcher full of water and a glass and a small bottle of ibuprofen are on the nightstand. How did he know? Did I say something last night during the attack? Or after about the headaches?
I step out into the hall and make my way to the kitchen. Nandy is sitting at the table reading a book.
“Hey,” I say.
He looks up and smiles at me. “Hey.” Then he stands and heads to the kitchen. “Are you a coffee drinker?”
“I don’t trust anyone who isn’t.”
He grins again and pours me a mug.
“What time is it…” just as I ask, I see the clock over the stove. “Fuck! Is that right?”
Nandy nods. “It doesn’t matter. Everything is still frozen to a standstill. That’s why I let you sleep.”
“Where is my phone?”
Nandy retrieves it from the charger he attached it to at some point. “It’s been blowing up. I finally silenced it and charged it for you.”
I nod and take it from him. Exhaling, I unlock it and stare at the ridiculous number of texts, missed calls, voice mails.
I put it back down. I can’t deal with any of that before coffee.
I’m not sure where to begin. How to thank him for last night. How to express how nobody can ever know. I glance around the apartment. My vision was so blurred last night.
“This is beautiful, yours?”
He nods.
I stroll over to the wall of floor to ceiling windows facing the lake. Everything looks white or, even worse, clear. Despite the highly filtered sun, everything appears frozen and sparkling. A battle being waged. I say a silent prayer for the sun to win out.
The sound of the door opening fast and shutting hard draws both our eyes to the hall where whoever this intruder is will appear in a matter of seconds. Nandy doesn’t seem worried. Annoyed. Definitely annoyed. He stands and moves away from the table.
I eye him. Is he increasing his distance from me for a reason?
When a man appears…I wonder. I wonder if this is a jealous boyfriend. Is Nandy going to utter those dreadful words “it’s not what you think” which, in this case, it very much isn’t? Because I am wearing his clothes, we are both disheveled and there is no place else I could have possibly stayed last night given the conditions. Well, let his thoughts run wild.
“Oh, thank God, I was stuck at the club all night and you would not believe who—” he stops when he spots me sitting at the table, my hands still holding fast to my hot mug of coffee.
A tiny pang of jealousy? Something hits my belly. It burns, and it’s uncomfortable. And I don’t like it. I don’t do jealousy. I’ve never cared enough about anyone for it to even be an issue. I don’t do relationships. And what happened with Nandy last night is way more important to me than what I showed up here wanting. But still. This quiet alone, private time with him, I’m not ready to relinquish that.
I’m not sure how to read the look on Nandy’s face. This man is something to him. And he seems disturbed by the intrusion, too.
“Fynn,” he exhales and gestures toward me, but doesn’t look at me. “This is TJ.
“TJ, Fynn,” he gestures back.
Fynn heads my way with his hand extended while his eyes stroke all over me in a shameless once over and way too early in the morning eye fucking. Suddenly he stops and his eyes go wide just before he gets close enough to reach my hand.
“Wait…the TJ?” He turns his attention to Nandy as do I.
Nandy doesn’t meet either of our eyes. He simply nods.
