Superfan (Brooklyn #3)(33)

I don’t even have words for some of the ways we touched last night.

“Morning,” I repeat, as my phone dances a jig on the bedside table. “Sorry. Let me tell Becky that I’m not coming to breakfast.”

“Mmm, breakfast,” he says with a happy sigh. “Want to go out and get some greasy diner food? We need sustenance.”

He’s not wrong. There was a round two in the shower. And a round three on the side of the bed.

But I don’t answer him for a second, because I’m texting Becky. Go without me. Still busy here.

OMG! she manages to text back before I shut the phone all the way down.

“Sorry, you were saying?” I turn my attention back to the sleepy hunk in my bed. And—wow—in the daylight he’s even more impressive, crazy bedhead and all.

“Pancakes and bacon?” He yawns. “No—bagels and salmon. And coffee.” His stomach actually rumbles audibly.

“Well, going out to eat with me isn’t that much fun,” I hedge.

His eyes open all the way. “Do fans pester you?”

Yes. “Sometimes. And I’m not in the mood for that right now.” Not to mention that Mr. Muscles would be sitting at the next table, eavesdropping.

Usually there’s not much happening in my life to overhear. But the things that Silas and I say to each other are private. They’re not for anyone else’s ears. “How about I order room service?” I offer. “They have good bagels here. From H&H.” I sit up.

“Okay,” he says easily, catching my hand. “Don’t be gone too long.”

My poor heart can’t take this much niceness, I swear.

I slip my hand out of his, grab a plush bathrobe out of the master bath, and order breakfast. When I get back, Silas is squinting at his phone with a scowl on his face.

“Something wrong?” I ask, sitting on the bed, smiling at him.

He looks up at me and his expression softens. “You look so relaxed this morning.”

“Are you looking for compliments?” I ask, giving him a poke in the hip.

“No!” He snorts. “Just saying.” His phone buzzes on his chest. “Let me just tell my roommate I’m not dead.”

“You have a roommate?” I flop back on the pillows, where his screen is visible to me.

“Yeah. I actually have two at the moment, because his girlfriend moved in. Now there’s a long story…” He unlocks his phone and checks the messages.

And—good lord—there are bunches. I swear, a dozen people are all pinging him. “Your phone is like LAX on a Friday night.”

He sighs. “Teammates. They’re nosy.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, realizing that I’m being rude. “I won’t look over your shoulder.”

“Hey, I don’t care.” He reaches up and tugs me back down again, arranging me under one arm. I never met anyone as tactile as him. He makes cuddling seem inevitable. “I don’t need to answer all of these, anyway. Let me just check this one.” He taps a face, which belongs to a woman named Georgia.

I’m standing in your apartment and you’re not here, she writes.

“Uh-oh,” Silas says.

My stomach drops. “Who’s Georgia?” I ask. Could he have a girlfriend? It’s not like I asked.

“My publicist—the one who set up the ball game.”

“Does she always make house calls?”

He must hear it in my voice, because he turns his head and studies me with those clear, guileless eyes. “We all live in the same building. It’s like a college dorm sometimes. It just didn’t occur to me that Georgia would show up looking for details at…” He checks the time on his phone. “Eight thirty in the morning.”

“Oh,” I say as my face heats.

“Yeah.” He reaches out to touch my cheek. “Sorry. She’s going to assume…” He starts to laugh.

“Well, she’ll be right,” I point out.

But he doesn’t answer Georgia’s message. He goes back to the main menu. “Georgia is married to Leo.” He points at another face, also with a pending message. Buddy have a great time at the ball game!

“And my roommate Jason lives with this chick…” He points to a cute blonde woman who has also texted him this morning. “We’re like one giant, gossipy clan. But the only message I need to answer right now is my roommate’s.” He taps on Jason’s face.

Okay, it’s midnight, Jason writes. Must be extra innings? Bad traffic? Heidi and I are wondering where you are.

We both snicker.

And then, an hour later: Dude, wow. I’m impressed. Way to make the date a success.

“Oh man,” Silas says, while I laugh. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why? Because you have friends who pay attention? That’s kind of their job.” He has no idea how envious I am. Besides—if you want to know whether someone is a good guy, just look at his phone. If he has a dozen friends hazing him at once, then he is obviously loved.

It’s a shame I didn’t figure that out a long time ago. All of Brett’s messages are from people who fear him or loathe him.

Jason’s final text has a timestamp from a half hour ago. Wow, man. I didn’t know you were such a stud. A sleepover with your idol? Georgia is here looking for you. She and Heidi are laughing their butts off right now.