Page 103 of The Pact
“You’ll survive.”
She smirks and shakes her head.
I chuckle as I walk into the bathroom.
My shower takes all of five minutes. Just enough time for me to rinse off the day, clear my head, and reset for whatever comes next.
When I step out, towel wrapped around my waist, the room is quiet and dark.
I see Presley in the bed, watching me.
There’s something in her eyes that I’m not sure if I’m reading correctly.
My pulse picks up as I walk over to the dresser, dropping the towel without looking at her. Because I know she’s watching me.
I can feel it.
I pull on a pair of boxers, my movements slower than they need to be, aware of her in a way that has nothing to do with comfort, and everything to do with the something building between us.
When I get to my side of the bed, the scent of her hits me first. It’s sweet and clean, and mixed with a faint trace of mint from her toothpaste.
I slide into bed beside her and lie on my side facing her.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
“Hey,” she says, smiling, but not in a playful way.
Silence stretches between us, but not uncomfortably.
“We should talk,” she finally says.
My chest tightens. “Okay.”
“I’ve given a lot of thought about what you asked me,” she continues.
I don’t move. I just listen.
“And I also talked to Alie,” she adds.
Of course she did. It makes me feel slightly better and simultaneously worse. Because the Grant girls don’t sugarcoat anything.
Presley’s gaze holds mine. “I think we should do it.”
I blink, and for a second, I don’t even think I breathe.
“Yeah?” I ask quietly.
She nods. “I think we should.”
I study her face, looking for hesitation and doubt.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
She reaches over, setting her hand on my stomach.
“I want to do this.”
“For me?”
