Finding Love in Winter Nostalgia

Chapter Five

I'm awoken by rain pouring against the bedroom window the following morning. My heart melts, and I smile to myself as I glance down at Kairo, still soundly asleep on my chest—wrapped around me as he was last night.

Landiwe.

My gut twists into knots.

Dammit!

She has most likely called to check if I made it home last night.

You may never be this close with him again.

There's that reality, too.

I press a kiss on Kairo's forehead, and carefully untangle myself from him to search for my phone. He mumbles something incomprehensible and falls silent again.

I look down at my body. My underwear is stained by my neglected erection from last night. I pick up my jacket from the floor, and find my phone inundated with notifications. My heart sinks. There are missed calls from Landiwe—seventeen to be exact—and over a dozen text messages.

Christ, I'm not up for this.

Nonetheless, I phone her back—ignoring the texts.

"Draco," she says wearily. Oh boy.

"Hey, what's going on? Is everything okay?"

Here it goes.

"Yeah . . . I'm at the Logan Airport."

My heart gravitates to my ass.

"Wait—what? As in the Boston Logan Airport? Here in Massachusetts?"

"Yeah." She chuckles. "I wanted to surprise you, but I guess that blew up in my face. I've been here for almost two hours, and I couldn't leave because I forgot to get your address."

Bloody hell! Of all the weekends and days this could've happened, it had to be today? Fuck!

"Where exactly are you seated? Are there people around you?"

"Yes. I'm in the Terminal B waiting area."

"Please grab a coffee at the café inside the airport. There's a shop around where you are. I'll be there in less than twenty minutes, okay?"

"I haven't exchanged my money yet."

I sigh. "Just get whatever you want. I'll pay when I get there." I hang up.

As I request an Uber, I notice Kairo's stunning sleepy face studying me with a smile.

"Good morning," he says groggily.

Oh, sweet heavens. Can he get any more sexier?

Am I seriously about to leave this gorgeous man—who is clearly inviting me back to bed—for all the petty fights which await me outside this room?

What a fucking life I live.

"Hey. Landiwe is at the airport. I have to go pick her up."

His face drops. "Oh."

I understand how you feel, baby. I'm sorry.

"May I borrow something of yours? I don't feel like wearing the same clothes again." She'll question whose bed I woke up in.

"Er, sure. Help yourself." His tone is clipped.

I rush to the closet, and pull out a pair of grey sweatpants and a maroon Harvard hoodie. I hurriedly dress up, and jump into my shoes. I take my wallet and keys from my jacket on the floor.