The Anti-Boyfriend(12)

“Thank you for sharing all this with me.” This conversation had changed the way I viewed people with special needs.

She stared into my eyes. “Thank you for not being afraid to ask.”

I looked down at Sunny’s sweet face with a newly acquired sense of hope. “You think it might be worth trying to put her down again?”

“Yeah, I do.”

I carefully lifted myself off the couch. It felt good to stretch my legs and take the pressure off my numb ass and balls.

I followed Carys to the baby’s room, and once again placed Sunny carefully on the mattress. I don’t think I’d ever walked slower in my life than I did leaving that room.

Once back in the living room, Carys said, “You really can go home now.”

“Ah. I can take a hint.”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to get you to leave, if you want to stay. I’m too wired to fall asleep just yet. I’ll be up for a while. I’m enjoying the adult company.”

It was rare to hang out with a woman without any expectations. I was enjoying her company, too. A lot. Carys was real. I didn’t have to put on the charm or any kind of a front around her. I could just be myself. That felt good.

When she realized I wasn’t rushing out, she looked back toward the kitchen. “Can I get you some…” She hesitated. “Crap, I don’t even know what to offer you. I don’t have alcohol except for these bottles of champagne I never open. I don’t drink too often. And it’s late for coffee. I have hot chocolate?”

I chuckled. “That sounds good, actually. I might’ve chosen that if given the choice between alcohol and hot cocoa.”

I followed her as she walked over to the kitchen. She took a couple packets out of the cupboard and filled a tea kettle with water.

I carefully slid one of her kitchen chairs out and sat down. Although this night hadn’t turned out the way I’d expected, I was content to be here. I wasn’t sure if it was the whole no-expectations thing, but hanging around Carys was very calming. It was nice to just be friends with a woman.

So, you probably shouldn’t stare at her ass as she leans over the stove.

The thin material of her nightgown molded to her butt, giving me too good of a view.

Carys looked back at me. “Shit.”

“What?” Does she have eyes in the back of her head?

“I just realized the tea kettle whistles when it’s ready. I wasn’t thinking. It could wake her up.”

“We can have…warm chocolate?”

She laughed. “I’ll just listen closely and take it off the heat right when it’s about to start.” She leaned her back against the counter and crossed her arms as she waited. “It’s funny all of the things you forego for the sake of not waking up a baby. Some nights I’ll debate for several minutes whether opening a can of seltzer is worth the potential of waking her up.”

“So you decide not to bother, only to find that your trusty neighbor has a friend over and wakes her up anyway?”

“No.” She laughed. “You only seem to keep me awake. Her room is far enough away from our wall. But unfortunately, her room is right outside the kitchen.”

“I did end up moving my bed, just so you know.”

“I haven’t heard anything since, so it must be working.”

The truth was, I’d only had sex in my apartment once since Carys had mentioned being able to hear it. And I’d been extra quiet, to the point that Kendra thought something was wrong. Now that I knew Carys could hear me, it changed things. I couldn’t do anything without wondering whether she was listening. The sick thing was, the idea of her listening turned me on a little.

When the water started to boil, she rushed to take it off the heat. She poured two mugs and mixed the cocoa in before handing one to me.

I looked down at the words on the mug she gave me. “I’ve always wanted to drink out of a mug that says, Classy, Sassy, and a Bit Bad Assy.”

She chuckled. “Sorry. I don’t have a ton of mugs.”

“I love it. And thank you. I haven’t had hot chocolate in forever.”

“I’d offer you whipped cream, but it makes a lot of noise when it shoots out.”

“I think there’s a manwhore-next-door joke in there somewhere,” I cracked.

“I wouldn’t have gone there.” She laughed.

There were a few seconds of awkward silence before she said, “Anyway, we should take these out to the living room, so we don’t wake her.”

“Oh…yeah. Let’s do that.”

We sat down on opposite ends of the couch and quietly sipped our hot chocolates.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking another personal question,” I began.

She licked her lips. “Okay…”

“What happened that caused you to not be able to dance professionally anymore? What type of injury was it?”

She shook her head. “You’re not going to believe it.”

“Why?

“Because it’s pathetic.”

“Well, now you’ve got me even more curious.”

“I fell down a set of stairs and broke my ankle,” she confessed. “Can you imagine that?”

I let out a long breath. “Oh, man.”