What I Should Have Done ✓

Chapter 23

Someone nudged my arm—wait, what? Where am I? What time is it? I opened my eyes and shut them again right away, groaning when the first, tentative rays of sunshine falling through the narrow windows under the ceiling seared my retinas. John and I were lying flat on the couch with my head resting on his chest.

"Good morning, Sleepy Dwarf." John's low voice in my ear was dangerously sexy, even in my half-asleep state.

"Morning," I mumbled back reluctantly. "What time is it?"

"7-ish."

I groaned again. "Why did you wake me?"

A quiet chuckle escaped his throat. "I have to use the bathroom."

"Well, tough luck," I teased, but I sat up and ran a hand through my disheveled hair.

"Hey, now. I didn't wake you last night, even when I realized you'd miss the carol singers scene, did I?" His face grinned up at me.

"No, you didn't." My hand stopped in its tracks in the center of my scalp. My voice was quiet, but I felt unusually brave and held his gaze.

We stared at each other for a few excruciatingly long seconds. I might have been looking down on him, but I wasn't in control here. I hadn't felt in control in weeks, I realized. The air between us was nothing but an invisible net of sticky tension. For the hundredth time this week, I was acutely aware of my heartbeat. His eyes flickered to my lips for a split second.

The chirp of a bird outside startled him. He averted his eyes and crawled off the couch and turned to the stairs.

"Um... hey," I said and rose quickly. "I need to talk to you about last night, or this entire week, rather."

As I walked towards him, I was overwhelmed by dizziness which resulted in me falling into his arms that he opened just in time. "Sorry. I got up too fast." When my palm flew to my forehead, it was hot to the touch.

John rubbed my back once and then made sure I was standing on my own two feet again. "Okay, I'm gonna go to the bathroom now."

Once he had climbed the stairs, I sat back down on the couch and buried my face in the blanket. Why did this have to be so uncomfortable? Why did I have to try and talk about the elephant in the room, the big unknown, the bold question mark, the two letters that terrified me more than anything else at the moment: "us"? Was it not a big deal to him? Was this all in my head? Then why had he evaded my request to talk about it? He knew damn well where this conversation would have led.

Instead of going back to sleep and pretending it had never happened, I climbed the stairs to the first, then to the second floor. The door to John's room was closed, he was probably changing, so I grabbed a shower and changed into a pair of blue jeans and a black and red flannel shirt over a black camisole before descending into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. It was still early, but they were early risers and I wanted to do my part while the Jays' house guest.

Why wouldn't he answer me?

After combiningorganic eggs with a splash of milk, salt and pepper and paprika from the pantry and some fresh parsley the refrigerator also revealed, I poured the mixture into the skillet I had heated on the stove. They were sizzling and their aroma wafted into my nose.

"Smells delicious," said John right beside my ear.

I almost jumped to the ceiling and slapped him with the still clean spatula I was holding. His footsteps had either been silent as a mouse or I had been too lost in thought to hear him approach.

"John! You scared the hell out of me!" He grinned. "And for heaven's sake, put on a shirt, you're not on spring break in Panama City."

My cheeks grew hot when I noticed his bare torso with his damned toned abs and smooth skin. Screw you, John. At least he had replaced the towel with a fresh pair of jeans. I quickly turned back around to the stove and scrambled the eggs to seem busy.