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Talk about hot.
For fucks sake, stop it.
I swatted the thought away. “Morning,” I grumbled as I shifted my weight. “Hey, can we talk later? I want to explain about last night…and apologize.” I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, nervously waiting for his response.
He blinked, attempting to clear his still drooping eyes. “Uh, yeah. Yeah that’s fine. But I’m gonna head up to the coffee shop to meet up with Libby first. You want anything?”
At least he’s not hiding it.
I nodded. “Sure, just the usual. Maybe throw in one of their blueberry muffins too, please?”
Don’t say it, don’t say it.
“Tell Libby I said hi.” I gave Seth a tight-lipped smile, hoping he didn’t catch the bitchiness in my voice.
You dumbass. He’s going to realize you’re being weird.
Libby is a sweetheart. Slow your roll.
He nodded and trudged his way toward his pristine kitchen, grabbing his keys. My gaze trailed behind him as he went through his living room, slipped on his black and white sneakers, and lazily stepped out his front door. I stood in the bathroom entry, staring after him even when the door closed behind him.
“This is stupid.” I huffed and turned back toward Seth’s marble-covered bathroom. I slammed the powdery-white door shut behind me and stripped off my clothes from the day prior. I tossed them on the Carrara marble tiled floor and turned the water on in the shower to scorching hot. I wanted to feel the burn from it. Melt away these god-awful pangs of jealousy and bitchiness winding their way through my veins.
This isn’t me.
I grabbed the bottle of shampoo Seth had along the wall and squirted half the contents into my hand, then slathered it into my hair. I might’ve wanted to scrub away my mood, but I would still be petty and use more of his expensive shower products than necessary. The downside? I smelled like him—pine mixed with a hint of bourbon.
Home.
I jolted. “Home? Where the fucknuts did that come from?” I scrubbed my arms red in hopes of chasing that thought from my mind.
Giving up, I shut off the water and grabbed the towel off the hook outside the shower. I wrapped my hair on top of my head and walked over to the double vanity. I pulled out my toothbrush and scrubbed my teeth until my gums bled, spat, and stared myself down in the mirror.
“Erin. Calm your tits,” I steadied myself. “You’re acting like a lovesick puppy and throwing a hissy fit.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. I met my reflection once again. This time analyzing.
Average chest, I’ve been a whopping C-cup since middle school. Still perky-ish.
Thank you, weight-training.
Since I hit my twenties, my hips have widened ever so slightly. In addition to all the workout routines, running, hiking, and just overall muscle tone I gained, I had developed curves over the years. I had a crescent moon tattoo resting on my left hip with stars mirroring on my right. A scar from when I had it pierced was showcased at my belly button. Below that, I had various tattoos covering both of my thighs, following the theme between my favorite television shows and movies with a pop of book characters. I was nerdy and obsessed with books. And still a mess and a half, even after spending a good fifteen-to-twenty minutes in a scalding hot shower.
Everything about me screamed average. And Seth was not. He was built like a freaking Greek God, that even dark and mysterious Josh couldn’t compare to. Seth was a genius, even though he hid it; under his carefree, borderline frat boy demeanor, he had a heart of gold. Long story short, he was out of my league. I never stood a chance. I scrunched my nose at myself displayed in the mirror—at the disappointment in how I looked and that I allowed it to bother me.
“Suck it up, Buttercup.”
I know what I look like and how I appear. I long ago accepted where I stood in society’s attractive scale. Why is it suddenly bothering me so much?
I unwrapped my hair and finished toweling off. I grabbed my bundle of clean clothes off the counter and threw them on. Scrounging around the under-sink cabinet, I found a dusty Onyx blow-dryer. I plugged it in and flipped it on high. The blasting airhelped to drown out the thoughts running through my head—it was too loud to think.
After my hair was dried, I took one more long, disappointing look at myself in the mirror, then padded out into the hallway. I glanced down the hallway to Seth’s room, my shoulders slumping forward.
I tossed my dirty clothes into the guest room. Then, against my better judgment, headed toward Seth’s bedroom. Not entirely sure what drew me to it beyond pure curiosity and nosiness. Even though we shared his bed the other night, I hadn’t gotten a good look around his room. I’d only been in there twice the whole time he’d been in this place, both occasions having been in his roomwithhim in it. Bedrooms are like a sacred spot…and there I was, snooping and invading that privacy.
No going back now, I guess.
I stepped over the threshold, taking in the full space. The fourteen-foot ceilings were reoccurring throughout the old-school-building-turned-residential home. Exposed light oak beams ran the full length of the room, angling upward, and meeting at a point in the center. The walls were painted a light cream. Three large bookcases stood flush against the far wall, finished to perfectly match the exposed beams overhead. Above them, an arched window spanned the width of the room.
His bed was positioned at the halfway point leading from where I stood in the entrance to his bedroom with one slate-grey side table nestled on either side. The oversized, shiplap headboard was painted in the same shade of grey. Seth’s almost-bleach white down-comforter, along with his favorite navy-blue throw, was rumpled in the center of his king-sized mattress. Pillows, naked and not a pillowcase in sight, were tossed randomly around the room. One barely hanging on his bed and two others sprawled on top of the blue-grey shaggy rug that took up a majority of the hardwood floor. It stopped just short of thelounge chairs and reading table that were positioned a few feet in front of the bookcase furthest to the left.
