Page 57 of The Do-Over Girl

KALI

We go back to our own rooms to sleep, realizing it’s best not to wake up in the middle of the afternoon together in his room—and not just to save Charline from having a heart attack. He’s weary, and I’m wary. Maybe I’m even more cautious than he is, so I can’t blame him for his caution. I get it. Only too well.

We reach the top of the stairs, and I want to say something to ease his pain, even if it's seventeen years too late. We stop in front of my door like he’s dropping me off from a date, and I stare up at him, all my emotions rushing to the surface, but I can only communicate so much with my eyes. I dig down for my courage to speak, to tell him what I need to say.

“I’m sorry, Nash.” My voice is hushed and trembling. “For everything.”

“Hell, Kali.” His voice is raw.

My knees nearly buckle, and I lean back against my door. He pulls me in for a kiss, the kind of kiss we haven’t shared since we first started dating as high school sophomores. Not exactly chaste, but hesitant, exploratory. It takes a few teasing lashes from his tongue to warm up before he loses himself, before we both forget everything but the here and now once again.

That’s how I fall asleep, playing his kiss over in my mind, the feel of it, the immediacy and the connection. Always the connection that touches deep down to my soul.

* * *

Although I want to,need to, I don’t sleep until mid-afternoon. Nikki wakes me at ten with a call and an invitation to dinner at Andrews Point Pizzeria.

“Wake Nash up for me—he’s not answering his phone. This is a business dinner, and his presence is mandatory.” My heart beats wildly at the idea, wishing he was here in bed with me so I could turn over and nudge him awake. Maybe that’s Nikki’s assumption.

“I will.” I try to sound casual. “What time?”

“Believe it or not, these days, it’s a popular spot on Sundays for some reason, so we need to get there early. Look, I gotta go and get my kids out the door to visit with grandma. Hubby is taking them without complaint because she promised him a roast beef dinner, thank God.”

Smiling as we end the call, I spring into motion to dress, my heart rate accelerating exponentially with each moment drawing closer to knocking on Nash’s door as if I’m anticipating something special, either a return to his taunting me like he did at the start of school or a return to our truce and sizzle.

But when he opens the door, I get neither. That doesn’t mean my heart slows, unless you count the stutter-pause, because even in his stark neutrality, he’s gorgeous with his mussed hair, dark stubbled jaw, and those eyes piercing right through me. There’s no smirk or smile, but there is sizzle, and it all resides in my belly.

I’m way too easy. And the thing is, I don’t care anymore. My wariness is worn to a frazzle under the assault of his raw sexiness—and not to mention his strength and vulnerability. Because even though he’s not showing vulnerability now, I see it underneath his cool veneer. My memory has no trouble conjuring up the image from last night and superimposing it over his current, confident demeanor—which, by the way, is more than appealing all on its own.

“Good morning, Kali.” No smile. No cracks except in my head.

“Hi. Sleep well?” I repeat the question he had to me after our first, shall we say, encounter.

His eyes flash with amused acknowledgment, though only briefly. I deserve the distance, or attempt at it, after bringing up our past last night, a stupid mistake. Or is it a misguided attempt at self-preservation since my squishy insides are telling me I’m gone? There’s nothing left to preserve.

“Just dandy. You?” Now, his expression looks real, expectant.

So, I give him an honest answer. “No. I was thinking about you—”

He barks a harsh laugh.

“Wait—no, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant I…felt out of sorts.” I take a breath and cast off the last remnants of my security blanket, my pretense that I’m okay with nothing but the here and now. “I would rather have spent the night in your arms. Would rather spend every night in your arms.”

His brow furrows. “You sure about that? We’re only here for a few more months—”

“I know. I’m not asking you for anything. I’m only being honest about how I feel.” I shrug, but my face doesn’t stop shining my feelings, broadcasting them like a spotlight, and I search for a response in his eyes.

What I see is back to neutral, though warmer than earlier, more at ease.

“I get it. I like having you in my bed, too.” And there it is—the killer smile, right down to the deep dimple and the fine creases at the corners of his eyes, the real soul-melting, uterus-clenching, sexy AF irresistible smile. Which also happens to be genuine.

He reaches out and pulls me into his room and then into his arms. “So, what brings you to my door besides make-up sex?”

I laugh and tell him about Nikki’s call.

“Fuck.” He gestures for me to sit on his bed. “That explains your business-like attire.”

I’m wearing a cream suit with a bright blue sweater, the kind of outfit I would have worn to the office, the only clothes I had to bring with me. At first, I felt self-conscious dressing this way, standing out among the others at APA, but I learned that the old saying about how clothes make the person doesn’t always tell the whole story. I was accepted for who I am and what I’ve been doing—which is working my ass off to save the school.