Читать книгу One Small Thing: the gripping new page-turner essential for summer reading 2018! - Erin Watt - Страница 11

3

Chase rolls onto his side. He reaches for something on the nightstand of the bedroom we wound up in. I hear the hiss of a lighter. The scent of smoke soon fills my nostrils as I lie there, staring at the ceiling. Taking a deep drag, he shifts onto his back and does the same. The crisp cotton sheet covers his lower body. His chest is bare.

Me, I threw my clothes on the moment it was over. Second thoughts are chased by third thoughts chased by so many thoughts that I’m paralyzed. What do I do now?

What have I done, period? My entire body is hot with embarrassment and my heart is pounding harder than the bass line that’s still shaking the house.

Chase takes another drag on his cigarette. He’s acting like what we just did was no big deal. But maybe it’s not to him. It probably isn’t. He probably has sex with hundreds of girls at parties.

I didn’t tell him I was a virgin.

I—

“I have to go,” I blurt out, shooting to my feet.

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t meet my gaze. I’m glad, because I don’t particularly want him to see the shame swimming in my eyes.

It’s not until I’m about to turn the doorknob that he speaks.

“Where’s your phone?”

My head swivels toward him, and, finally, our gazes collide. His expression reveals nothing. His chest still has a slight sheen of sweat on it from... I tear my eyes away.

“It’s in my purse,” I mumble. “Why?”

“Take it out.”

I’m helpless to say no when it comes to this guy. Face burning, I fish my phone out of my bag and wait.

He rattles off a number.

I stare at him, still feeling dazed. And my body, despite being sore, is responding to the sight of his abs.

“Put that number in your phone.” His voice is rough. “Text me when you get back to your friend’s place so I know you made it back okay.”

I keep staring.

“Beth,” he prompts, and I finally manage to find my voice.

“Give me the number again,” I whisper.

He repeats the digits and I dutifully type them into my phone.

“And, yeah, call me if you ever need me,” he says gruffly.

I nod, but I think we both know that aside from the one text I’ll send from Scarlett’s, I will never, ever, ever use his number again.