My heart raced faster, and when Henry pointed to the right, I gave him a nod, and we stepped through into an equally clean, ridiculously large bedroom. The bed had to be king-size at least, pushed up against the far wall, made like it had never been slept in. I couldn’t look away from its crisp, white sheets, wondering how Henry slept: in boxers or naked? On his back or on his front? Curled up around a random woman he was likely to never see again, or completely alone?
“You gonna take me to bed now, Phoebe?”
I turned to look up at him with wide eyes. “Is that what you want?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Henry.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that tonight. You should know I don’t wish for shit. If I want something, I get it. One way or another.” He leaned closer, and I saw my whole world caving in. I saw my ‘no men’ rule being thrown out of the window. I saw too many mistakes being made again, so I did the one thing I shouldn’t have done.
I stepped out of Henry’s embrace, watching his face change completely and his entire body stumble to the side until he crashed into the wall and slid down to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
He blinked up at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw, his shock obvious.
“Did you just…?”
“You’re drunk—too drunk,” I said, stating the obvious. “Climb into bed. I’ll get you some water before I leave.”
I turned away without waiting for a response, rushing back into the kitchenette, and opening the fridge to find several bottles of water lined up in a row. Before even thinking about getting a drink for Henry, I uncapped the bottle of the first one I grabbed and poured the entire thing down my throat.
At least that was one thirst I could take care of without anyone getting hurt in the process.
Chapter Eleven
Henry
I’d somehow climbed into bed with a single thin sheet pulled halfway up my now-naked body by the time Phoebe returned with a single bottle of water uncapped for me. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, a dull throb pulsed throughout my body, warning me that come tomorrow morning, I’d probably ache in several places. Right then, though, with her in my orbit, I couldn’t find the energy to care.
Laid on my side and propped up by a pillow, I watched her moving with caution around my room, placing the water on the small nightstand next to my bed before she walked around to the other side of the mattress and looked down at me.
She was the reason this holiday sucked.
She was also the only thing I looked forward to seeing every day.
I wished she’d stop putting so much distance between us all the time.
I also wished she’d stay the hell away.
“What is it about you?” I asked, diving straight into it without a care in the fucking world, because that’s what happened whenyou were drunk as hell: you stopped caring about the little things. About other people and their wants. About the judgment you’re sure to face the next day.
“Me?” she asked meekly, standing there in her beautifully tight black dress, making me want to sink my teeth into her neck and slide those thin straps off her shoulders and down her arms. “What do you mean?”
I blinked up at her. “You annoy me.”
“I can assure you the feeling is entirely mutual.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“But is it for the same reason?”Is it because you hate the fact you want to get me into bed, too?
Her plump, pink lips parted, and I didn’t have to be sober to see there were a million and one questions hiding behind those beautifully inquisitive blue eyes of hers. “I don’t know your reason.”
“You sure about that?”
“I don’t do well with riddles and miscommunications, Henry.” God, the way she said my name. “If you’ve something to say, why don’t you just say it?”
