For You

🎇16🎇

Amelia's POV

We said our goodbyes and left the wedding venue, heading to Carver’s house. Elizabeth had made him stay at her and Rick’s place until he got married—she knew all too well how careless he could be on his own.

As expected, the car ride was quiet. Carver was tapping away on his laptop while I sat beside him, barely able to keep my eyes open. When I get sleepy, everything fades out, and all I can think about is a warm bed.

“How long is this ride, Carver?” I asked, my voice groggy.

“Just twenty more minutes,” he replied without even glancing up.

I’ve noticed something about him—he rarely talks unless you ask him something directly, and even then, it’s usually short. He’s always buried in work and has a habit of being blunt, if not outright rude, to people outside his family or circle.

“Melissa, why are you staring at me like that?” he asked suddenly, catching my gaze.

“O–Oh! I wasn’t staring,” I stammered, flustered. “I’m just... sleepy.”

“Well, it looked creepy,” he muttered.

I rolled my eyes. If I wasn’t so tired, I would’ve snapped back with something snarky.

“Sorry if I creeped you out,” I said flatly, turning to look out the window, watching the blur of trees instead of his face.

We finally reached his house. It wasn’t enormous, but it was beautiful—modest by billionaire standards, with a large garden, numerous windows, and three balconies that gave it a romantic charm.

“Uh... Melissa, I’m sorry but... we’ll have to share a room,” Carver said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“What? Why?”

“There are only two bedrooms. Since I hardly stay here, Mom had the staff clean just one. The other’s basically storage right now. Unless you want to sleep on the couch?”

I blinked at him. “Why don’t you sleep on the couch and let me use the bed like a gentleman?”

“I’ve been working all day, and I can’t sleep properly on a couch. I’m not used to it,” he argued.

“Oh, and you think I am? Do you think I sleep on couches for fun?” I snapped.

He threw his hands in the air. “Alright! Then we share the bed—but keep your hands to yourself!”

I scoffed. “It’s you who should keep your hands in check, not me. People don’t change in a day, Mr. Anderson.”

“Oh please, Mrs. Anderson, stop rolling your eyes at me. You should be honored to share my bed—for free.”

The name Mrs. Anderson felt strange—foreign on my tongue and unfamiliar in my heart. I couldn’t describe the feeling, but it stayed with me.

Too tired to argue further, I muttered, “Fine.”

The living room was lovely, but the bedroom was even more impressive—a spacious master room with elegant décor. The maids helped bring up my suitcase.

Carver was already in the washroom, so I used the time to change. I picked out my oversized white nightshirt and underwear—my go-to sleep attire. I always shower before bed, no matter how tired I am.

I removed my jewelry and was just about to unzip my dress when Carver walked out—shirtless, wearing only sweatpants.

God help me.

His body was toned to perfection—defined biceps, sculpted abs. It was ridiculous. My eyes stayed a second too long, and he caught me.

“Are you done staring?” he asked with an annoyingly smug smile.

“Shut up, Carver. I just needed help with my dress zipper,” I lied, clearing my throat.

Honestly, there’s something incredibly romantic about a guy helping a girl with her zipper.

“You can’t even do that on your own?” he asked incredulously.

“Please. This dress is impossible. I don’t want to sleep in it,” I pouted.

I swept my hair to one side so he could reach the zipper. I felt his warm breath on my neck and his fingers lightly brushing my back. Goosebumps. He leaned closer, and just as I felt him about to whisper—or maybe kiss—his phone rang.

Saved by the bell.

I rushed into the washroom with my clothes, heart racing. I took the longest shower of my life just to avoid facing him again.

By the time I returned, he was already asleep on the right side of the bed. A wall of pillows separated us like a peace treaty. I turned off the lights and crawled under the covers, choosing sleep over overthinking.

For tonight, at least—I didn’t care what tomorrow might bring.

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