Page 9 of Blush Crush

Nora’s giggle follows me. “Okay, old man.”

I keep walking, not bothering to turn around as I flip her off, chuckling to myself.

“Stay in bed with me,” Kennedy murmurs into the pillow, her voice still thick with sleep and last night.

“Gotta get to work, Ken.” I sidestep the mattress before her outstretched hand can snag my wrist.

She groans dramatically and rolls onto her back, the sheet sliding down her body in a way that’s absolutely intentional. Sunlight slips through the slats of my blinds and streaks across her bare skin. A few weeks ago I would’ve crawled right back under there without a second thought. Maybe even a few days ago.

Now I feel nothing, which I’m pretty sure makes me the asshole.

I tug my shirt over my head, using the fabric as a shield while I breathe through the tightness in my chest. I don’t usually do sleepovers, but Kennedy has worn me down lately. One night turned into two. Then weekends. Then a toothbrush appeared next to my sink.

She recently broke off her engagement, so I thought I was safe in thinking she was only interested in a fling.

I’m starting to gather that was a wrong assumption.

Especially after last night.

Not only has she been slowly trying to wiggle her way into my life, but she’s been succeeding. It wasn’t until we were lying there, coming down from the high of sex, that I realized she’d spent the night every night this week. Every. Fucking. Night.

My throat had started to close, panic crawling up my spine like I was going into anaphylactic shock. This wasn’t casual anymore. I let this get too far.

“You’re leaving already?” she asks now, pushing up onto her elbows.

“Yeah.” I grab my watch off the dresser but don’t put it on. I just turn it over and over in my hands, the cool metal biting into my palm. I focus on that instead of her.

She studies me, eyes perusing slowly down my chest before coming back up to meet mine. Her expression is scrunched like she can’t figure me out. “You’re being weird.”

I huff out a quiet breath. There’s no good way to do this. But it has to be done.

“Kennedy…” I lean back against the wall, needing the support. “I think maybe this thing we’ve got going on isn’t really working anymore.”

Bracing myself, I wait for her reaction.

She looks at me with a blank stare before nodding once. “Okay.”

I blink, air stilling in my lungs. “Okay?”

“Sure.” She shrugs one shoulder and reaches for her clothes on the floor, completely unfazed. “This has been fun. But I think we both know you’re not relationship material.”

That throws me, and maybe stings a little, even if it is true. “Right…”

I can’t decide if she means what she’s saying or if she’s about to start breaking my shit.

I hate it when they break my shit.

Instead, she pulls on her underwear and adds, “You’re convenient and easy. It’s been fun.” A small smile curves her mouth. “A great lay. I’ll miss the orgasms.”

I scrub a hand down my face, uncomfortable heat wrapping around my neck. This is not how this is supposed to go. I’m the one who ends things. I’m the one who leaves. I don’t get dismissed.

At least I never have before.

“So you’re not mad?” I ask, hating that I sound like I need her to be.

“It’s not like I was trying to marry you.” She steps into her jeans. “I just didn’t want to be alone right after everything blew up. You were perfect for that.” She smiles, like it’s a compliment. “You’re not my type at all, which is exactly what I needed. A distraction.”

My spine goes rigid. Not her type? Is that an insult?