The Pretend Boyfriend novel Chapter 87

She was right the first time. She's a veritable mess when it comes to Brian.

The words freeze in her throat as he thunders away. Not to the elevators, but down the stairs. She can only watch his escaping back - the slightly mussed-up chestnut hair that catches the light - as he disappears.

She doesn't go after him.

Anger rears up to bite her again. Who the hell does he think he is to judge her? How dare he?

Thor clears his throat. "Do you have your key? I'll get you in and put you into bed."

Suddenly, there's nothing more she wants than to get away from him.

"Um, I don't feel too good, Thor. I think I need to lie down."

"That's what I'm trying to get you to do."

"I mean alone." She pushes his chest away firmly. For good.

He actually looks hurt.

"Are you sure?" he says.

"Very sure. Please, I need to be alone right now. I'm not feeling too good." In fact, she thinks she might throw up on his shoes.

"OK," he says doubtfully, "but only if you're sure."

God, but is that the outline of his cock within his jeans? Surely he can't get a stir from what just happened with her and Brian? But the bulge is very obvious.

"I'm sure." Her voice raises a pitch. "I'll see you tomorrow at the gym, OK?"

It takes an eternity for him to say "OK" and walk away. She waits till he goes to the elevator, stubs the button, looks back at her to ascertain she really means it - which she confirms by shooting him a glare - and then waits till the elevator doors shut on him before she resumes fumbling for her key.

Damn, damn, damn!

If only his mind isn't in such a dichotomy over her. If only he isn't such a fuck-up. No wonder his own family doesn't want anything to do with him.

It is this thought - ensuring her future - that makes him groan again, pull off the pillow and slide out of bed. Since it's her, he doesn't bother putting a robe on. He opens the door, stark naked. He is aware that he must look a fright with his hair standing up at all angles and his eyes bloodshot.

She stands on the other side of the doorway. He is right. Her face is strained with worry. She's also uncertain - probably because of the way he acted last night. Or was it this morning?

"Come in," he says.

She looks him up and down. "Are you stoned?"

"It's just Xanax. Though I should probably add some 'E' to it." He sees her face and then scrunches his own. "Kidding. Geez, can't you take a joke?"

He turns to get himself a pair of jeans, and then wonders 'What the fuck?' She's seen him naked only like a thousand times.

She walks in and plunks herself down on the sofa. He seats himself in the armchair opposite her. His balls twitch, and he feels his cock rising at the sight of her. Embarrassed, he grabs a cushion and covers his crotch with it. Maybe he ought to get dressed after all.