Page 42 of Just Between Us

“Okay? Just like that? I figured you’d at least try to get out of it.”

Then Cassie’s mouth stretches into the smallest of smiles. “My mom’s favorite movie isGreaseand I think you’d make a perfect Danny Zuko.”

“You’ve been holdingout on me, Mister Swanky Bathroom!” I yell to Liam from where I stand in his massive en suite bathroom. He doesn’t have a tub, but he does have an enormous shower with jets coming from every angle and a waterfall shower head. There’s even a fancy tiled bench seat. “I should have upgraded my tour package the first time I was here.”

I hear Liam’s low laugh from the living room.

In desperate need to wash this day down the drain, I step under the spray. The water pressure is perfect, and I let out an indecent moan I can only hope was muffled by the shower. Once I’m clean, I sniff every bottle on the shelf like a little weirdo, pop open his shampoo and lather up, inhaling the woodsy clean scent I’ve begun to recognize as distinctly Liam. After standing there longer than necessary, I turn off the water and step out, wrapping myself in the fluffiest oversized towel.

Very little thought went into what pajamas I threw into my bag and, in hindsight, I realize my error. I get hot in my sleep. Most of my pajamas are thin shorts with equally thin tops. But Liam and I have managed this friend arrangement fine so far. Surely a half-dressed best friend won’t be a big deal.

At the last minute, I slip my arms from the top, a stray threadgetting hung on my dermals, and fasten my bra back in place. I untangle the thread and smooth my top down. There. That’s better.

I make my way to the living room, detangling my wet hair with a comb I found by the sink. Liam is right where I left him on the couch, Mutt curled at his feet, but when I walk in, he glances up, back down, and quickly up again doing a double take.

His eyes rake over me in my skimpy pajama set, and I force myself to act like the appreciation I see in his gaze doesn’t send heat simmering straight to my belly.

I’m being ridiculous. It’s pajamas. It’s Liam. It’s me. The stress of the day has gotten to me. But the air still hums with a charged energy I can’t ignore.

Gesturing with a sweep of my hand down my person, I say, “I get hot in my sleep.”

That seems to break whatever spell we’ve landed ourselves in, because Liam’s expression smooths over and he goes back to staring at his phone. Plopping down at the other end, I’m surprised when Liam grabs my feet, hauling them into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Swallowing hard, I focus on my own phone, not actually registering anything on my screen. The only thing my mind can focus on is Liam’s solid hand resting on my ankle, his thumb drawing circles on the delicate skin. Every pass sends a current skating up my calf, and I have to remind myself to breathe normally, like this is nothing. As if my whole body isn’t tuned to the exact rhythm of his hand.

Absentmindedly, I cross my big toe over my second like I’ve done since childhood, and Liam’s thumb stills. I glance up from the video I’ve now watched five times to see him eyeing my foot.

“Whatcha doing there?”

I wiggle my toes, spreading them out before crossing them again.

“What? My toes? Can’t you cross yours?”

“Never tried. Let’s find out.”

Liam props a foot on the coffee table and looks intently at his bare foot.

“They’re not even moving,” I point out.

“I’m trying to make them mo—ah, shit. Cramp, cramp.” He props his foot across his knee, massaging his big toe. “People would pay good money for pictures of that shit,” he says, eyeing my feet again. “Just sayin’.”

I snort a laugh. “Hard pass.”

Liam huffs a laugh and we go back to scrolling. For all of the pent-up energy humming beneath Liam’s skin, he also isn’t afraid of silence. There’s an intimacy in the way we can sit quietly for long stretches of time, simply being in one another’s presence. I appreciate that today more than ever. But it’s barely nine p.m. and I feel myself being lulled into a sleepy, dreamlike state. I’ve given up trying to stifle my yawns. It’s been a long ass day and I’m ready for bed.

Liam glances up when I pull my feet from his lap to stand.

“I think it’s bedtime,” I say around another yawn.

I head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and return to the living room to check on Liam one last time.

What I see when I enter the living room stops me dead in my tracks.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Liam jumps up, fitted bedsheet held aloft between both hands, brows furrowed. “Getting the couch ready for bed?” He delivers each word slowly, as if confused by my question. “Someone has to take the couch and you’re my guest.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t make this weird. You’re too big to sleep on the couch.”