Page 124 of Cross Check

I groan, trying to take stock of my surroundings.

A dark room, the curtains drawn tight. The flash of a muted television, images playing on a loop. Deep, rhythmic breathing, and a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. I crane my neck, looking around, but the heavy arm draped over my waist holds me there.

Understanding dawns when I spot the familiar friendship bracelet on the wrist of the person behind me.

Grant.

We must’ve fallen asleep and moved toward each other subconsciously. I distinctly remember being on the other side of the couch, but now, we’re practically intertwined. Held together by his calf slung over mine and my hand resting over his on my stomach.

My breath catches. My body sparks at the press of his fingers on my bare skin where my shirt has ridden up. We’re perfectly aligned, and there’s almost no space between us.

I move my hips, freezing when my backside brushes against his groin. His loose shorts don’t hide anything. He’s not hard, but he’s noticeable. Thick, long. I panic at the notion of how easy it would be to do the one thing I vowed I’d never do, and I twist out of his hold. I put a hand on the floor, attempting to wiggle off the couch. I knock my knee against the table in the process, flailing to the ground with bruised pride.

“Ow,” I hiss.

“What is it?” Grant sits up, rubbing his eyes. “Lia? Why are you on the floor?”

“No reason.” I rub over the pain pulsing up my thigh. “Just needed to get up so I can head to bed.”

“Get up?” He frowns. Blinks twice at the blankets strewn across the couch and the dip in the cushions. “Fuck. Did we—I didn’t… I’m so sorry if I⁠—”

“I’m pretty sure it was me,” I admit. The room is too hot. I need air. Another minute, and I could’ve been on top of him. I wanted to be on top of him. “I move in my sleep and you were… there.”

“I didn’t know we fell asleep. There was a guy with an ax and…” Grant trails off. “Jesus. What time is it?”

I tap my phone. “Two.”

“Bed.” He turns off the television, plunging us into darkness. Without any light, I rely on the sounds of him moving around to figure out where he is. There’s anticipation in wondering if he’s going to accidentally touch me. If he’d play it off like it’s no big deal. “We need to go to bed. Separate beds. The two bedrooms we’re staying in. It’s way too late.”

“Some might say this is early,” I tell him, glad he’s frazzled too.

“Doesn’t matter what it is. Nothing good happens after two a.m.”

“True, to a point.” I stand, using the flashlight on my phone to guide the way down the hall. “I was born at three forty-seven in the morning. I’d say I’m a fairly good thing.”

“You’re better than good.”

“Night, Grant. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night.” His voice is the husk of a rasp. Maybe he’s wondering what might have happened too. “Sweet dreams.”

When I’m safely in my room, I shut the door and rest my forehead against the wall. I close my eyes, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to go to sleep after learning what it’s like to be pressed up against him.

Heaven, I think as I pull on my pajamas.

It felt like heaven.

FORTY

GRANT

I wake up hard.

My eyes aren’t even open, and I can feel the jut of my cock pressing against my boxers. I grab a pillow and smother my face with it.

You cannot touch yourself while you think about Amelia.

She’s here because you’re going through a hard time, not because she’s in love with you.