They Said He Hated Clingy Girls—So I Stopped… And He Didn’t Like It Chapter 02

They Said He Hated Clingy Girls—So I Stopped… And He Didn’t Like It Chapter 02

When I woke up, I was curled up against Blaine’s side, my arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

His chest rose and fell, slow and even, and the moment I realized what I was doing, my stomach dropped.

I’d been doing this more and more lately — reaching for him without meaning to, my body acting on instinct while I was still half-asleep.

If he woke up like this, he was going to hate it. I started easing my arm back.

I almost made it.

Then his hand closed around my wrist.

My eyes flew to his. He looked like he’d just woken up — his hair slightly mussed, his gaze still heavy.

“What are you doing?” His voice was rough with sleep.

I jerked my hand back and planted both palms against the mattress to push myself up. “It’s late,” I said quickly. “We’re going to be late for work.”

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, his expression unreadable.

I didn’t need to look at him to feel the tension radiating off him. [The male lead is clearly annoyed — she latched onto him in her sleep again.] [Honestly, who wants to be clung to while they’re sleeping? That sounds miserable.]

[She’s a grown woman — boundaries exist for a reason.] [I’d lose my mind if someone was this clingy with me. No wonder he’s like this.]

I looked down. The comments stung.

Before I could scramble for an excuse, Blaine spoke. “Still owe me that goodnight kiss,” he said. His tone was completely neutral.

Back when he traveled for work, we always missed our good morning and goodnight kisses. I’d never let it slide — I always made him make up every single missed kiss.

I was relentless about it. One missed kiss meant he owed me ten more.

The first time I said that, he’d looked at me like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be annoyed.

“Nora. Are you serious right now?”

I had willfully ignored the issue. I’d just take his face in both hands and kiss him until I felt better about it.

It happened enough times that eventually he stopped flinching, stopped pulling away.

But after last night — remembering the way he’d pulled back, that small, unmistakable flinch — I finally understood what that quiet resignation of his had really meant.

So I shook my head before he could say anything else.

“You don’t have to.” I looked down at the sheets. “We don’t need to do the kiss thing anymore.”

Blaine went very still. Something shifted in his expression — a flicker of something dark and unreadable.

A long silence. Then, in a cold, flat voice: “Suit yourself.”

I let out a slow breath. Relief, and right beneath it, a sharp ache.

He’d always hated it — all of it.