No Strings Attached (18+)

Chapter 2

I smirked slightly, "It does say a lot about Dave that I'm more willing to sleep with a mafioso psychopath than with him."

My eyes widened as the double meaning of my words hit me.

"Fuuuuuck..."

Nick laughed, "It's fine, I know what you meant."

Sliding down the vinyl cushion, I stared at the ceiling, "This is just not my day."

"For what it's worth, it's almost over."

"A-fuckin'-men."

"So," he looked over at me, "Have you decided?"

"Decided what?"

"Whether you're taking the floor, the bathroom, or if we're sharing the bed."

Lowering my gaze, I felt the endless list of unanswered questions running through my mind.

Taking a shot in the dark, I asked, "How would your wife feel about us sharing?"

Nick shook his head, "Not married."

"Girlfriend?"

"Nope."

"Boyfriend?"

He smirked, "No."

Glaring, I gave in, "Okay, what is your relationship status then?"

He paused, growing solemn in the silence.

"Widower."

A heartbeat passed.

"Widower?"

Nick nodded, "Car accident. Five years ago."

Regret burned in my throat. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he shrugged, "you didn't know."

"Still, it has to suck to have it brought up like that."

Looking away, Nick's expression turned pensive, "It was devastating at the time, and for a long while after, it was hard to believe she was gone. But," he sighed, turning back to me, "eventually you learn to remember the good times, and we had a lot of good times."

I peered up at him, hesitating before I said, "For what it's worth?"

"Hmm?"

"It adds a lot of points in the 'not a serial killer' column."

He grinned, "What?"

I sat up, "You successfully convinced a woman to marry you - makes it a lot less likely that you're a serial killer."

Tilting his head slightly, Nick mused, "Wasn't John Wayne Gacy married?"

I scowled, "You're really not helping your case here, Nick."

Standing in the elevator, I watched my companion through my periphery.

"Yes?" Nick asked.

"Okay, if I agreed to share the bed, could you promise to keep to your side?"

"I can try?"

"Alright," I glanced away, thinking. "We'll have to build a sleepover moat."

Nick's eyebrows rose, "What in the actual fuck is a sleepover moat?"

"A line of pillows down the middle of the bed," I explained, "Makes sharing less awkward."

"Ah."

Smirking, I teased, "You've clearly never been to a girls' sleepover."

"Clearly," he nodded.

The doors opened, and we walked down the hall to our room. Nick reached it first, pulling out his keycard and opening the door.

Inside, I went to the pile of extra bedding, pulling out the pair of pillows and stuffing them under the top sheet.

"There. That'll have to do."

Nick shook his head, "If you say so."

"So," I went into the bathroom, digging out my toothpaste and toothbrush, "What time do you want to get up?"

He walked to the closet, kicking off his shoes, "Later is probably better."

"Oh?" I said past a mouthful of white foam.

Glancing over his shoulder, Nick answered, "With the flooding? It either gives it more time to abate or gives more time for the road crews to figure out a detour."

Leaning over, I spat into the sink, "Ah."

"How about this - I'll set an alarm for nine. You can have first dibs on the bathroom and go downstairs for breakfast while I get ready."

"Okay, that works." Crossing the room, I folded back the sheets and sat on the mattress, weaving my hair into a quick, sloppy braid.

Twisting a hair tie around the ends, I laid down and pulled up the sheets. Turning my face toward the wall, I murmured, "Night, Nick."

Behind me, I heard, "Goodnight, Leah."