Brain Games

27. For You

Stomach rumbling with hunger, I walk one block over to a fast food joint, getting myself the greasiest burger and fries and stuffing my face until my stomach and heart are content. Stomach beyond full and happy, I debate walking the few blocks home, but my tired feet in these heels are screaming at me not to. I would just take them off and trudge home barefoot, but doing that in New York City is probably the biggest health code violation known to mankind. So I grab a cab and shamelessly let the driver take me the few blocks home.

I ride the elevator up to my apartment, and just as I'm digging my keys out of my purse, passing Brad's door, it opens. He's dressed in a T-shirt, gym shorts, and tennis shoes, AirPods shoved in his ears, clearly on his way to the gym.

His eyes widen a fraction, surprised to see me, and he removes the AirPods. "You're home from your date early."

"You're headed to the gym late."

"Had to blow off some steam," he replies. "Why are you back so early?"

I can't help the small cynical laugh that makes its way up the back of my throat. "Because the date didn't happen," I confess, and he looks at me quizzically. I let out a long breath before continuing. "He got drunk at a bar with his friends beforehand, lost track of time, and didn't show up to the restaurant."

Brad's eyes narrow and his jaw ticks. "He stood you up?"

I nod, stomach twisting uncomfortably after confessing everything out loud. The admission seems really pathetic all of a sudden, causing my self-esteem to tank. Especially in front of Brad.

His eyes rake up and down my body, his voice hard and gravely—restrained—when he says, "His loss."

I wrap my arms around my middle, feeling only a little less pathetic, and again, my mind wanders to how different this night would have gone if I celebrated with Brad instead.

"You look beautiful," he says, voice much softer, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I let out an airy, humorless laugh, self-pity starting to seep in. "Yeah. It took Ashlee almost an hour to get me to look like this, and I put in all this effort for a guy that didn't even show. Now I just feel and look stupid."

"You shouldn't, because that guy is the fucking idiot."

I clear my tightening throat, shifting my weight from one heel clad foot to the other. "Do you think the gym can wait?" I ask, voice surprisingly small.

His eyes soften, a small smile curving his mouth. "Well today is supposed to be leg day, but I think I can switch it up to cardio."

I roll my eyes. "How generous of you."

"Very," he breathes, taking two large strides to reach me.

His hands instantly find the backs of my thighs, sweeping me off my feet. My legs instinctively wind around his torso before his lips crash onto mine, and he carries me into his apartment. He pushes me up against the closed door, our mouths hungry and desperate, devouring each other, instantly recharging my self-esteem and making me forget tonight even happened.

With an impatient groan, he pins me to the door with his hips, only tearing his lips from mine to rip his shirt over his head. Before the fabric even hits the floor, his mouth is back on mine. He kisses me fervently, like I'm providing the oxygen to his lungs. Coincidentally, it feels like he's stealing each breath from mine, but the burn feels so damn good.

Still pinned to the door by his hips, he grabs my face in his large hands, taking complete control of the kiss. Instead of speeding it up, I'm surprised when he slows the pace, the kiss becoming more passionate, purposeful. Claiming. Unlike any other kiss we've shared.