Don't Mask, Don't Tell

Chapter 13

His words replay in my head as I try to fall asleep, still laying on his chest.

Axel likes me? Why me?

I start to roll away from him, but before I can move, his muscular arm tightens its grip. He cuddles into me and my doubts start to drift. My head moves in tandem to the steady rise and fall as his melodic breathing hums me to sleep.

———

The smell of maple syrup fills my nose, waking me from a deep hibernation. I turn towards Axel, realizing he's no longer in my bed, and a sense of disappointment sweeps over me.

He seriously left—again?

A boisterous hyena-like laugh blares through the house, piercing my threshold of consciousness. I'd recognize that obnoxious laugh anywhere.

Eliza.

I grab my phone searching for the time, knowing I must be late for work if she's awake.

It's only 6:00am. What's she doing up this early?

She never gets up before brunch and even refuses to book jobs prior to noon.

The last time I've seen my best friend wake up this early, was during the summer of 2017. She had spent three months traveling for work and the last leg of her trip was in Milan. After she returned home, she was roughly six hours ahead of me for two weeks. She was absolutely miserable and swore off mornings ever since. However, if we are talking 2:00am in a club, that's another story.

Maybe she just hasn't gone to sleep yet.

Taking a deep breath, I try to refocus my mind, attempting to push aside any remaining anxiety. Axel probably left for a good reason and I should stop overthinking.

Is that...bacon?

Eliza almost burned down the entire building when she tried making pasta two years ago. The firefighters were sexy, but totally not worth it. We received a massive fine and from that moment on, she hasn't touched our kitchen. There is no way she would be cook—

Oh, shit...

I hastily spring out of bed, still bleary-eyed, and immediately search for clothes.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I find Axel's white dress shirt in a wrinkled ball under the bed and throw my arms into the sleeves. Buttoning the shirt, I swiftly move towards my dresser.

This will have to do...

His addictive cologne floods my senses as I reach for lace booty shorts in my top drawer. For a brief moment, his smell triggers images of him fucking me, but I can't get distracted right now.

I'm on a mission to get to the kitchen as quickly as possible.

Trying to slide my feet through the holes, I hop in the direction of my bedroom door. I stumble as I pull the panties over my knees, crashing my shoulder into the doorframe, knowing the loud collision could be heard throughout the house.

Goddammit. There goes the element of surprise.

I race down the hallway, breathing heavy as I approach the kitchen, bending over to catch my breath. I place my hand on my lower back and look up, making eye contact with that cheeky bitch.

Holy hell! I'm out of shape.

"Ladies and Gentleman, Ms. Olivia Graham!" Eliza says with a broadcasting tone, holding the crispy end of a piece of bacon in her hand like a microphone.