Page 85 of Sour Notes

Standing with my hands on my hips, dressed in his T-shirt, with furry unicorns on my feet and my wild bed hair in total disarray, I probably do look pretty freakin’ ridiculous.

He smirks as he stands. “Those slippers are pretty ridiculous.” His eyes stay fixed on mine as he takes a step toward me. “But you’re also smart.”

Step.

“Sassy.”

Step.

“Insanely sexy.”

My heart thumps hard at those words.

He takes another step.

My breath hitches at his proximity, the intensity of his gaze still fixed on mine, making my skin prickle in tiny little goose bumps.

One more step and we’ll be nose to nose.

Will he kiss me?

“And a total pain in my ass.” He scoops me up and throws me back on the bed, laughing as he strolls out to our pool.

I’m not in the least bit disappointed that he didn’t kiss me.

Friends don’t kiss.

Not unless they’re faking it while others are present anyway.

Yeah, remember those rules, Mia? The ones you wanted to set? Now get in the fucking shower and go do some work.

Swayze’s occupied with his phone outside on our deck, so now’s the ideal time to jump in and have the quickest shower ever.

I still can’t believe I didn’t realize until I was butt naked standing under the spray that there’s a freakin’ window in there that opens straight out to the bedroom. It’s like something out of the Red Light District in Amsterdam.

I was half tempted to slut drop with the soap.

If he hadn’t been napping yesterday, he’d have gotten an eyeful. Thank fuck I booked that wax before we left because there’s no room for secrets here.

I don’t need Swayze watching me shave my armpits, thank you very much.

Or my cooch for that matter.

But I coooould mess with him a little.

Rummaging through my laptop bag, I pull out my trusty pack of Post-its and quickly scrawl a note on one, sticking it on the glass outside the shower.

Snickering to myself—how very Bart Simpson of me—I strip and step inside, sighing as the warm spray hits my skin and melts away all the remaining tension in my shoulders.

Swayze stands, phone to his ear, and walks inside, his eyes widening when they meet mine before he drops his head and hightails it to his bag. He grabs a file and practically bolts back outside.

I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t contain it.

The man has fucked me, but just blushed at seeing me naked in the shower. You can’t write this shit.

He’ll love my Post-it then.

Rinsing off the remaining suds, I towel off and walk over to my case again.