Sugar Rush (Friend-Zoned #3)(11)
Author: Belle Aurora

That’s kind of sad. They aren’t even extra-large or large boxes; they’re medium sized boxes, full of crap. Yes, crap, but all of that crap, I love. Pushing the thought aside, I pull my phone out of my purse and text Nat.

Me: I’m at the apartment. Don’t be pissy. I didn’t want to bother you. The place looks amazing!

Approximately thirty seconds later, my phone pings.

Nat: YOU DIRTY TOERAG! I KNEW YOU WERE LYING. YOU ALWAYS LIE! WHY DO YOU LIE?

I snicker.

Me: Whatevs, bro. I’ll see you after work.

Nat: I’m going to tear you a new asshole. But I’ll bring cupcakes.

My eyes widen at the last part. I salivate. I freaking love cupcakes.

Me: Oh Em Gee! Pls pls pls get the salted caramel ones. And the choc fudge brownie. And maybe vanilla creme. You know what? I don’t even care which ones, because CUPCAKES!

Nat: Now you get none.

Me: You’re a rugmuncher.

Nat: And you have a hairy asshole.

I burst into laughter. My sister is so vulgar. I love it.

Me: Love you x

Nat: LY2. Can’t wait to see you. Even though you’re a lying sack of shit x

Ahh, feel the love?

I take my suitcases and roll them over to the bedroom. And I stop dead in my tracks. I blink, then back away into the hall. Shaking my head, I tiptoe over to my bedroom.

There’s a man on the bed. A man spread-eagle, face-down, right on my bed.

My heart races.

By the way his back moves up and down in an even motion, I know he’s asleep. My head tells me to call the cops, but if I do that, I need to be sure I’m in danger. A sleeping man on my bed doesn’t seem like much of a threat right now. I think hard for a moment before quietly moving back into the kitchen and going through my purse. I take out my pocket mace and my cell phone, and walk back to my room.

It takes me a full minute for me to realize I have the mace to my ear and my phone held out as a weapon. Genius. I quickly switch them around and enter my bedroom. The man’s sock-covered feet hang over the foot of the bed. Lifting my own foot, I nudge his calf. He grumbles, but doesn’t wake. I nudge him again, harder this time.

A sleepy, “Nik, fuck off,” comes out of the man, and my body goes rigid.

I know that voice.

I really like that voice. Why the hell is he in my apartment? In my bedroom? I lower my mace and clear my throat.

“Fuck off, man. Not kidding.”

I don’t bother with niceties. “You fuck off. This is my apartment.”

His body stiffens. Without another word, he turns over, tilting his head up, blinking up at me. “Helen?”

Oh, man, you’re on a roll, asshole.

I glare. “It’s Helena! Not Helen!”

He looks adorably mussed. His dark brown hair sticks up in the back and he blinks his sleepy golden eyes. His red-rimmed golden eyes. I don’t like that. I frown as I speak, “Are you drunk?”

A look of confusion passes him. “What? No, I’m not drunk.”

“Then why are you here?”

He looks around the room, gathering his bearings before his body slumps. “Oh, shit. I was supposed to be fixing a leaking faucet, but I guess, I…uh…” He scratches at his chin—his amazing, strong, manly chin—and finishes, “…fell asleep.”

My brows rise in disbelief. He watches me closely. We don’t say a word.

I take in a deep breath and respond on an exhale, “Well, if you’re done, I need to move my stuff in…without anyone sleeping on my bed,” I look down at my pillow and accuse, “or drooling on my pillows.”

He quickly opens his mouth to defend himself, but turns around to look for himself. “I didn’t drool…” He trails off as he sees the wet spot on my pillow. At least he has the grace to look sheepish. “I can wash that.”

I scoff. “Yeah, right.”

He stands and stretches, but as he lifts his arms over his head, extending his muscular arms as far as they can go, his tee lifts over the waistband of his jeans to reveal low-rise jeans, boxer elastic, and a well sculpted V.

The dark blue jeans he wears encase his strong legs. The plain black tee is nice and fitted over his muscular arms, but looks well worn. His feet are covered in white socks. A very obviously child-made, bright yellow, purple, and blue elastic loom bracelet rests around his right wrist.

He looks delicious.

Warmth hits my dipping belly and works its way down. I squeeze my leg together tightly, holding the doorframe for support. Holy shit. I’m suddenly hyper-aware I have on no makeup and am wearing grey sweats with my white stay-at-home tank. It’s a stay-at-home tank, because it’s ratty. So extremely comfortable, but ratty.

Okay, it’s more like a rag. Somehow, this only makes me angrier. “You can’t just come into people houses when they aren’t there.”

Max rubs a hand over his face. Mid-yawn, he utters, “Sure I can.”

My blood begins to boil. “No, you can’t.”

He lowers his hand from his face and smiles at me. All I see are full lips, white teeth, and that magical dimple.

That fucking dimple.

He takes a step towards me, eyes trained on mine. His voice is still sleep-husky when he drawls, “I’m here, aren’t I?” He looks over my face then mutters distractedly, “A face like this should not be frowning.”

My cheeks heat. I choke out, “What?”

He says louder, more confidently, “I said a face like yours should never frown.”

I flush and mumble, “What’s wrong with my face?”

Max looks me over, slowly, meaningfully, “Absolutely nothing, from what I can see.” He smirks. “I’ll just use my imagination for the things I can’t.” Then he winks.

He winks.

I take a shaking hand and point to the door, hard. “You need to leave.”

He sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time.” I watch him sit on the edge of my bed and slip his shoes on. Then he walks out to the kitchen. I follow. He lazily walks around my kitchen to the refrigerator. He opens it and scowls at the almost bare interior.

I ask heatedly, “Can I help you there?”

He continues to search the refrigerator while absently scratching his belly. “I’m hungry.” He straightens. “Are you hungry? We should go get something to eat.”

My mouth gapes. Boy, he works fast. I laugh humorlessly. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

His brow furrows. “Why not? You’re hungry, I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”