out from underneath him, sliding off the sofa. I get to my unsteady feet and start to back up. I need to put some distance between us. “That…it shouldn’t have happened.” I touch my fingers to my lips. I can still feel him there.
Carrick is sitting up now, staring at me in confusion and frustration. “It absolutely should have happened. And it needs to keep on happening.” He gets to his feet.
“No. I can’t do this with you .” My voice is sharp. I don’t mean it to be.
“You can’t do this with me ?” His face snaps into anger. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
You know that moment when you know you’re digging yourself into a hole, but you can’t seem to stop the digging, no matter how hard you try?
Yep, I’m there right now.
“It means, you’re you , and I’m me.” I press a hand to my chest.
“I’m me?” He’s starting to look beyond pissed off.
I’m getting confused, and I’m exasperated. Quite frankly, I’m also horny. “Yes! You’re Carrick Ryan, man-whore supreme! You shag anything that moves, and I don’t want to be one of those moving shags! And I work for you, and you’re a driver, and I don’t get involved with drivers. You know that!”
The silence hits like a dull thud in my head. I’m not fully aware of everything I just said, but I know it wasn’t good. I’m getting that from the way he’s looking at me like I’m a really bad taste in his mouth.
Sighing, I drag a hand through my hair. “Look…that came out all wrong—”
“No, I think it came out just right.” His voice is tight, hard.
“I…” I don’t know what to say. I let out a resigned sigh. “I should probably go.”
“Yeah. You probably should.” He’s not looking at me now. He’s turned away, facing the window.
Picking my phone and room key off the coffee table, I slip my feet into my flip-flops.
When I reach the door, I say to his back, “I’ll see you later?”
I wait a beat and get no answer. Yanking the door open, I let it slam shut on my way out.
How could I have let that happen?
We kissed, and now, we’re mad at each other, and it’s just stupid.
I’m sitting on my bed in my room—like I have been doing for the past two hours since I left Carrick—going through the emotions of anger and sadness and anger again. I’m at resignation now. And regret.
Big time regret.
I hate how we left things. I don’t want to fight with Carrick.
He’s the best thing in my life.
My mum always says you should never go to sleep on a fight. Honestly, I’m not looking at much sleep tonight if I don’t sort this out with Carrick.
I don’t want this to spoil what we’ve become.
A kiss really shouldn’t spoil things.
And yes, kissing him has sparked that crush of mine to intense life, but I can control myself around him. Because I’d rather have some Carrick than no Carrick.
Decision made, I put my flip-flops back on, grab my phone and room key, and head for the elevator.
My stomach is a riot of nerves the whole ride up to his floor.
When the door pings open, I fill my gut with determination, and I march my way to his door.
Hand raised, I knock on his door and wait.
And wait.
No answer.
Is he not here?
I knock again, a little louder this time.
Still nothing.
I stand here for a moment, feeling deflated. I was all ready to talk this out with him, and he’s not even bloody here.
I wonder, Where is he?
Maybe he went out and met up with Ben and the rest of them.
I’ll just text him, ask him if we can talk. If I have to go out and meet him, that’s fine. I just really need to talk to him.
I haul my deflated self back to the elevator and press the call button. Then, I quickly type out a text to Carrick, asking if I can see him, saying that we need to talk. I’ve just pressed Send on the text when the elevator pings its arrival.
As the door slides open, I lift my eyes from my phone to the sound of female giggling.
My heart stops dead.
Carrick. And
Carrick is sitting up now, staring at me in confusion and frustration. “It absolutely should have happened. And it needs to keep on happening.” He gets to his feet.
“No. I can’t do this with you .” My voice is sharp. I don’t mean it to be.
“You can’t do this with me ?” His face snaps into anger. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
You know that moment when you know you’re digging yourself into a hole, but you can’t seem to stop the digging, no matter how hard you try?
Yep, I’m there right now.
“It means, you’re you , and I’m me.” I press a hand to my chest.
“I’m me?” He’s starting to look beyond pissed off.
I’m getting confused, and I’m exasperated. Quite frankly, I’m also horny. “Yes! You’re Carrick Ryan, man-whore supreme! You shag anything that moves, and I don’t want to be one of those moving shags! And I work for you, and you’re a driver, and I don’t get involved with drivers. You know that!”
The silence hits like a dull thud in my head. I’m not fully aware of everything I just said, but I know it wasn’t good. I’m getting that from the way he’s looking at me like I’m a really bad taste in his mouth.
Sighing, I drag a hand through my hair. “Look…that came out all wrong—”
“No, I think it came out just right.” His voice is tight, hard.
“I…” I don’t know what to say. I let out a resigned sigh. “I should probably go.”
“Yeah. You probably should.” He’s not looking at me now. He’s turned away, facing the window.
Picking my phone and room key off the coffee table, I slip my feet into my flip-flops.
When I reach the door, I say to his back, “I’ll see you later?”
I wait a beat and get no answer. Yanking the door open, I let it slam shut on my way out.
How could I have let that happen?
We kissed, and now, we’re mad at each other, and it’s just stupid.
I’m sitting on my bed in my room—like I have been doing for the past two hours since I left Carrick—going through the emotions of anger and sadness and anger again. I’m at resignation now. And regret.
Big time regret.
I hate how we left things. I don’t want to fight with Carrick.
He’s the best thing in my life.
My mum always says you should never go to sleep on a fight. Honestly, I’m not looking at much sleep tonight if I don’t sort this out with Carrick.
I don’t want this to spoil what we’ve become.
A kiss really shouldn’t spoil things.
And yes, kissing him has sparked that crush of mine to intense life, but I can control myself around him. Because I’d rather have some Carrick than no Carrick.
Decision made, I put my flip-flops back on, grab my phone and room key, and head for the elevator.
My stomach is a riot of nerves the whole ride up to his floor.
When the door pings open, I fill my gut with determination, and I march my way to his door.
Hand raised, I knock on his door and wait.
And wait.
No answer.
Is he not here?
I knock again, a little louder this time.
Still nothing.
I stand here for a moment, feeling deflated. I was all ready to talk this out with him, and he’s not even bloody here.
I wonder, Where is he?
Maybe he went out and met up with Ben and the rest of them.
I’ll just text him, ask him if we can talk. If I have to go out and meet him, that’s fine. I just really need to talk to him.
I haul my deflated self back to the elevator and press the call button. Then, I quickly type out a text to Carrick, asking if I can see him, saying that we need to talk. I’ve just pressed Send on the text when the elevator pings its arrival.
As the door slides open, I lift my eyes from my phone to the sound of female giggling.
My heart stops dead.
Carrick. And