her chewing on her lip sends blood rushing to my cock. She’s always been undeniably beautiful, and tired, panicked eyes can’t detract from that.
Recalling the reason for her uneasy gaze, I ask, “Who is this man?”
Melody’s dirty blonde brow pops up high on her face. “I was hoping you could tell me that. That is why I reached out.”
I scrub my hand along the scruff on my jaw, hoping it will conceal my lips when they respond to the smugness on her face. “Smart-ass.”
Guilt for making light of the situation smacks into me when Melody’s playful chew of her bottom lip turns lethal. She bites down hard as she fights with all her might to trap the sob I see in her eyes in her throat.
“I am sorry. It is late. I am being an ass.”
She drags a hand across her wet cheeks before assuring me I have nothing to apologize about. “It was not what you said. It was hear—”
She stops signing when a male voice joins our voiceless conversation. “Mel, what are you doing hiding out in the living room? Come back to bed, baby. It’s cold without you.”
For the first time in my life, I dislike the taste of peanut butter in my mouth. It isn’t just the guilty expression on Melody’s face that has me regretting my dinner selection, it’s the image of a man wearing nothing but a pair of sleeping pants in the top righthand corner of Melody’s screen. The lamp behind him shows he’s standing in front of a rumpled bed.
My eyes shoot back to Melody’s face when I spot her signing in the corner of my eye. “I have to go, BJ. Can I call you tomorrow?”
With how hard sick, morbid jealousy is hitting me, I should say no, but for some fucked-up reason, I dip my chin instead.
My quick agreement returns the smile I was mesmerized by only seconds ago. “Thanks, BJ.”
Melody stares directly at me for what feels like a lifetime before she disconnects our call. It takes me just as long to lower my phone from my face. Even with an immense amount of awkwardness fueling our exchange, it was so surreal, I’m beginning to wonder if I am napping on the couch with Phillipa.
The only reason I know I’m not is because Phillipa has her shoulder propped on the doorframe of my bedroom. Her brows are pulled together tightly, and her lips are pursed. “Do you often have wordless conversations in the middle of the night?”
I shake my head. “That was Melody.”
“I kind of gathered that.” Phillipa enters my room without waiting to be invited. “The sign language gave it away, and let’s not forget that.” She swallows harshly at the end of her sentence before dropping her eyes to the crotch of my pants—the exposed crotch of my pants since I knocked off the pillow somewhere between being astonished by Melody’s call and blinded by jealousy. “What did she want?”
After covering the tent in my pants with a pillow, I arch a brow. “Do you really want to have this conversation now and in here, of all places?”
I stare at Phillipa with massive eyes when she touches her toes, twists her back, then does leg stretches like she’s about to run a marathon. “I’m not as nimble as I was in my college days, but this old girl should still be up to the task.” When she spots my whitening gills, she laughs. “I’m joking, BJ. Even if it’s been a while, you don’t have the equipment I need for an all-night romp-a-thon.”
“Huh?”
Phillipa motions for me to scoot across the mattress. When I do as asked, she discloses, “I’m a lesbian.”
“You’re a lesbian?” I apologize to anyone within a five-mile radius of my apartment building. I can’t help but shout. I’ve never been in the dating circuit, but I could have sworn she was giving me flirty kiss-me vibes earlier today.
Fuck, I’m in even more desperate need to get laid than I realized.
After slipping between the sheets of my bed, Phillipa slants her head to the side so she can peer at me with batting lashes. “I’m not a lesbian. But I’m more than happy to pretend I am if it saves my ass from spending another minute on your couch. Just because it’s expensive doesn’t mean it is habitable, BJ. I paid a fortune for a bonsai garden to fancy up my patio, and it died within two weeks.”