“Wise ass.”
I shrug my cut off, then lose my t-shirt, tossing it on the nearby chair. I don’t usually drop my shit everywhere, but I’m tired. Who knows if I’ll even get back to sleep. Then there are the night terrors I’m usually blessed with. I really hope I don’t have one of those tonight. They’re unpredictable, and it isn’t like I have control over it. No amount of therapy so far has helped me cure the dark side of sleep. Any hours I get without waking up in a cold sweat are a blessing.
I undo my buckle, then unbutton and unzip my jeans, pulling them off as I glance over toward Nova. She still has her hands over her eyes, even though I’m buck naked. I pull out a fresh pair of briefs from my top drawer, tempted to put on some pajama pants, but then she says, “Hurry, I’m dying to see what you wear to bed.”
I laugh. “You know what I wear to bed. Not much.”
“Ha! The last time we couch cuddled you wore sweats. I’m just saying, don’t let me stop you sleeping naked if that’s what you need to do.”
I shake my head. This girl, I swear to God. She’s not wrong; Idosleep naked, but obviously I’m not gonna do that tonight. “Couch cuddled?”
“It’s better than Netflix and Chill.”
“Debatable.”
I climb into my side and she drops her hands, immediately looking over at me. Her eyes drop to my chest. Unlike most of the guys, I don’t have a bunch of tattoos. The exception is the Heart of Courage ink on my chest, and a large biblical piece on my back that Bronco, one of my club brothers, finished a while ago. He also added the NOLA Rebels skull logo, which is now one of my favorites.
I keep myself in shape, and without being an ass, I know I have a good body. I’m fit and watch what I eat, plus I hit the gym every other day. After years and years of abuse, my body becamea sacred place that I would not compromise on. Nobody got to touch me unless I wanted it. And I don’t. Except for her, that is.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, eyeing my tattoo. “I’ve never seen you without a shirt on before.”
“I hope those Pilates classes are finally payin’ off.”
She laughs. “You do not do Pilates.”
“I do too, have you seen some of the chicks in the gym?” Of course, I’m joking. I’ve never taken a Pilates class in my life.
“They’d faint if you went in there looking like that.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t walk around the gym with no shirt on, weirdo.”
“Well, I’m sure they wouldn’t complain if you did.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, coach, are we ready for lights out?”
She places her empty plate on the side table, dusting off the crumbs. “Yep. I’m ready, Obi Wan.”
I lean over and turn the lamp off, shrouding us in darkness.
It’s so still and quiet tonight, even the overhead fan doesn’t make a peep. My room is cold because I don’t like it stuffy, but I do like to snuggle under the warmth of the comforter.
“Are you still mad at me?” she asks.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Nova, you said you saw Bobby tonight.”
“No, I said IthoughtI saw him. I had a couple of drinks, so it could’ve been anyone. He doesn’t know I’m here.”
I roll onto my side to face her, and she does the same so she’s facing me. “Sugar, it wouldn’t be that hard to guess. He knows your cousins are in the Rebels.”
“He’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere, hopefully. He also thinks I’m estranged from my cousins, so I doubt he’d think to look here.”
She’s wrong, so very wrong. Men like him — obsessive men — yeah, they will find a way if they really want to. From what I’ve heard, he was controlling and narcissistic.
“You still got that mace I got you?”