Mia Hill. College bound with an athletic scholarship. A go-getter with big dreams and a fully thought out plan to make sure they come true.
But with her father's release from prison looming and the inevitable stresses of adulting, everything she wa...
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Notes of spicy citrus and a subtle hint of cedar wafts through my senses as I settle into the soft, lush pillow beneath my head, dreaming of taking a walk in the sweetest forest on a crisp autumn day.
Wait... What am I even thinking right now?
My eyes fly open, their wide shock taking in the room around me. A room that is most definitely not my own. My body goes on alert and I hold my breath, pushing myself up with a bit of urgency which turns out to be a very bad, painful decision as my hand shoots to my head.
A steady throb ricochets across my skull, effectively reminding me of how much I drank last night, or at least trying to remind me.
I let my fingers drag down my face, feeling the small churn of my stomach as I glance around the room I'm in, all plain white walls and football equipment everywhere. A familiar ball cap sitting on the desk.
I'm in Grayson's room.
Oh God, what happened last night? How much did I really drink?
Oh no...
What did I say?
Pausing for a moment, going full on concentration mode, my head is still pounding as the vague memories of tacos and exes come fluttering to life in front of me. Tacos, Mia, really? Ben smells like Tacos? And Grayson...doesn't. Grayson smells good. Like spicy citrus and a subtle hint of the fucking forest. Oh for the love of all things sane, I'm never drinking that much again.
By instinct, I pull the covers over my chest, clinging them as close as possible to myself as I slowly, ever so slightly, lean over the side of the bed. Grayson's there, still peacefully asleep, at least, as peaceful as someone can be sprawled out on their own floor.
My heart does something strange, something it shouldn't be doing as it dances a bit at the realization that he took the floor. It's sweet, the gesture, the fact he took me here in the first place so I wasn't alone. There's even a trash can sitting beside the bed. I mean, really. That's so...
Nope. Not going there. Yes, it's sweet. He's proven to actually be a caring friend. But I can't be here when he wakes up. I could never begin to explain the things that fell from my mouth while intoxicated last night, and I know he'd never let me get away without a conversation. As it is, he'll never let me live it down. And no amount of me trying to explain myself will help.
My eyes drift back to him. You'd never know he was such a menace by how tranquil and serene he looks right now as he sleeps, his chest lifting and falling with deep, even breaths. Long eyelashes and lips that look so utterly soft. Kissable, even. When they're not busy spouting off nonsense, of course.
Kissable lips.
Oh no...
And that's when it hits me. I didn't just tell him he smelled like the heavens, but I...oh dear lord, I told him I wanted to bekissing him.
