Proving Paul's Promise(36)

“What?” I ask.

“Dude, I’m just glad she didn’t kill you. That’s all.” He makes a scratching like a cat motion with his hands and says, “Meow!”

She f*cking kills me every time she turns those green eyes on me. But I’d die a thousand deaths just for one look from her. “Are you ready to go home?” I ask her.

She nods and hands Kit to Logan. He takes her, already looking like he’s comfortable with Kit. He’s her dad. I guess he should be. Logan kisses Friday’s cheek, and I pull Emily to me and hug her. “Thank you,” I say in her ear.

Emily chucks my shoulder and doesn’t say anything.

We walk out, and I realize that I can’t put Friday on the back of my bike because she’s pregnant, so I don’t even let her know it’s there. I flag a cab and get in it with her. I’ll get my bike tomorrow. I text Logan and tell him it’s there if he needs to use it. He replies and tells me that he’ll see to it.

I pull Friday into me, and she lays her face on my shirt. Her hot breaths trickle down my collar and make me feel all warm inside.

“Just give me some time,” she says quietly against my chest.

I nod, and the bottom of my chin brushes the top of her head, so she’s aware that I’ve responded. She takes a deep breath and settles into me.

When we get home, I really want to take her to my bed. I want to hold her and be sure she’s all right. But she says good night to me at her door, and she closes it behind her. I stand there and feel peaceful just knowing she’s safe in my house, close to me. And so are her memories.





Friday

It has been two weeks since I came clean to Paul, and it’s been two weeks since he’s kissed me. He holds my hand all the time, so much that I sometimes wonder if I’m going to sprout roots and just be permanently attached to him. But he hasn’t kissed me. Yes, we’ve cuddled on the couch, and I can feel his dick straining against his pants, straining against me, but he still doesn’t kiss me. His lips haven’t touched a single part of my body. Not even once. Not since I bared my soul to him.

Tonight, I need his help with something, and I’m afraid to ask him so I call Garrett, instead. “Do you think you could come over and help me?” I ask.

“What kind of thing do you need help with?” I can tell he’s busy because there’s noise and laughter in the background.

“I need to be painted.”

I hear a door close and the noise vanishes. “Say that again,” he says.

“I need to be painted. Do you remember that contest I told you about? My model dropped out, and I have this kick-ass design I’ve worked on for the past month. I don’t want to miss out. It has a five-thousand-dollar prize.”

“And you think I can paint you?” he scoffs. “I have no artistic ability whatsoever. I can’t even do crafts. None of them. I’m bad at them all.”

“It’s just shading. I’ll transfer the design onto my skin, and then you just paint like a paint-by-numbers kind of thing.” I’m begging. But this design is seriously beastly, and I want to share it with the world. I can win. I know I can. “Don’t worry,” I plead. “I’m not even going to ask you to paint my boobs. I can do that part myself. I just need for you to do my back. Can you do it?”

“I can’t,” he says. “We’re at an event for Cody’s work.”

“Oh.” I let out a breath.

“Why don’t you ask the stud muffin to do it? He’s a f*cking artist, Friday.”

“He’s also…like…boyfriend material.” I feel heat creep up my cheeks.

“You mean he’s, like, totally f*ckable.”

I laugh. “That, too.” I walk out into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge. Paul is sitting on the couch so I whisper into the phone. “It’s just too intimate for us right now.”

“He’s still withholding the goodies, huh?” Garrett laughs.

I grumble softly and glance at Paul, who gives me a what-the-f*ck look. I can tell he’s trying to hear what I’m talking about, but he’s trying not to let me notice. And I desperately don’t want him to hear me talk about him.

“Ask him,” Garrett says. “Just do it.”

“No.”

“Why don’t you ask a girlfriend?”

“I don’t have any!” I cry. Well, I have a couple. But Reagan is busy and Emily just had a baby two weeks ago, so I can’t ask her. My old college roommate, Lacy, is busy, too. I already tried her.

“Go ask him. Then call me later and tell me how it goes.” He laughs, and then the line goes dead.

“Well, f*ck you very much,” I mumble at the phone. I’m incubating your f*cking baby.

“What’s wrong with you?” Paul asks. He turns the TV off and gets up. His long body gets even taller when he stretches his arms up over his head. I can see that little strip of skin below his T-shirt, and for the first time ever, I see that he has Kelly’s name there.

“You have Kelly’s name on your belly,” I say, pointing like an idiot at his stomach. He tugs his shirt down and scowls at me.

“So what?” he asks.

“So, you have Kelly’s name on your belly,” I say again. I force myself to shrug. “That’s all.”