Scorched (Frigid 2) - Page 46

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God, I really wanted a drink.

However I wasn’t sure if I could have just one drink. I mean, I thought I could, but the last thing I wanted was for anyone, especially Tanner, to comment on my drinking. Not that at the moment they truly had any room to talk since they all had drinks in their hands. It wasn’t fair. They could drink, but I couldn’t?

It was close to midnight when I finally called it a night. The air hockey game had ended and everyone was still chatting, but I was ready for the night to be over. Tomorrow held a lot more promise than what I was seeing now.

After saying goodnight, I headed for the stairs. Tanner did look up then, and my heart got all floppy when he grinned and said, “Goodnight, Andy.”

“‘Night,” I repeated, and then all but dashed up the flight of stairs and then to the top floor like a dork.

Goodnight, Andy.

Was that code for you’ll be seeing me later…or just telling me goodnight? Probably code. Definitely code. Should I have used a code that signaled I was okay with that? It didn’t matter. I took a ridiculously long time getting ready for bed. I brushed my teeth and then got the knots out of my curls. Then I washed my face and then engaged in some major wishful make-up—applied mascara and blush. For bed. Whatever. Then I slathered on the lotion that smelled of peaches. Searching for something sexy but didn’t look like I was trying too hard was more difficult than I imagined. I ended up settling on a pair of super cute sleep shorts and a cami.

I didn’t lock the bedroom door before I climbed into bed. Tanner would come—especially after yesterday and today, he would come. And we would talk, because we needed to be on the same page with what things truly meant. He said there were laters and that he wanted to see me once we left here, but that could mean anything—secret friends-withbenefits or an actual, real relationship.

My heart dropped with the thought of him wanting to be closet fuck buddies, and I wasn’t even going to pretend that I’d be okay with that. In all honesty, I wasn’t okay with the random hookups that only happened after I’d had a few drinks under my belt and wasn’t thinking right. In the darkness of the room, I could acknowledge that, even as hard as that was. And if Tanner wanted to be in a relationship, I needed to be honest with him and up front about some of the things he didn’t know about me. I guessed, in a way, he needed to make an informed decision.

Informed decision? I rolled my eyes. Wasn’t like he was voting for president or something.

I rolled onto my back and glanced at the clock. Tiny balls of ice filled my stomach when I realized an hour had passed since I’d walked into my bedroom. My gaze flicked to the bedroom door. Wasn’t he coming? Better yet, should I be okay with him sneaking into my bedroom even though he really didn’t pay much attention to me once our friends showed back up?

Then again, had I paid attention to him?

I bit down on my lower lip as I stared up at the ceiling, only able to make out the shape of the quietly moving fan. In all honesty, it wasn’t like I’d gone out of my way, either. I mean, I hadn’t been sure what to do or how we should act.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I told myself that all I needed to do was wait. Tanner would show. He would. So I waited.

And I waited—waited while the seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, and my door didn’t open and Tanner…he never came.

Chapter 16

Andrea

Two. No. Three. Maybe it was four? Hell. I tipped the bottle of beer to the side, frowning as I stared at the label. Maybe I should ask Syd. She’d know. She always knew.

“It’s five,” Syd said with a troubled-sounding sigh.

Straightening the bottle, I looked at her. She sat in the chair across from where I was stretched out on the still-damp chaise lounge on the deck. It had rained most of the day and the sun had only peeked out behind the thick clouds a couple of hours ago. “Huh?”

“That’s your fifth beer,” she explained, reaching up and pulling her thick hair—God, I wanted her hair—into a ponytail. “You have that look on your face. I recognize it. You’re trying to remember how much you’ve drank.”

My lips turned down at the corners. “I have a look?”

She nodded. “Yeah, you do. The look usually comes before you ask me how many you’ve had.”

“Ha,” I laughed. “I was just about to ask you. Huh.” Tipping the bottle back, I took a huge gulp. Immediately, I felt the need to burp that baby out, but as I glanced to where Kyler and Tanner stood, I decided that wasn’t very ladylike.

Tanner.

Ugh.

I took another drink and then rested my head back against the cushion. I couldn’t even look at him without reliving everything that we’d done in, like, real-time, and that was just awkward. Really awkward, because as soon as I thought about what we’d done, I thought about the fact he’d virtually ignored me all last night and had never showed up. And then I had to acknowledge that I’d probably gotten played. I’d gotten played hard. What in the world had I been thinking earlier? I hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem.

“But if you’re counting the shot of vodka you did between beer number two and beer number three, I’d say you’re probably at six or seven,” Syd added.

My eyes narrowed on her. “I do not follow your logic.”

She glanced over to where the guys were. Since the storm had cleared out, we’d ended up grilling steaks. Ribeyes—the good, fatty kind. Like my thighs. Except I doubted my thighs tasted good when chargrilled.


Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout Frigid Romance
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