I return his nod with a grin, and then make my way back over to Cassie.
If it’s our last Valentine’s Day together on campus, I’m going to make the most of it.
“YOU’RE SO SEXY WHEN you’ve got Dorito dust all over your sweatpants,” Gavin says — or rather, growls, like he’s some sex-craved animal.
I laugh as he climbs on top of me, pressing me into his sheets and kissing all over my neck.
“Sexier than the swimsuit in Ecuador, huh?”
“Oh, a thousand times over.”
I chuckle again as he settles in above me, balancing on his elbows with a sleepy, hot-as-hell grin on that perfect face of his. In the low light of his bedroom, those Tahiti-blue eyes of his still seem to glow against his freshly tanned olive skin.
True to his word, we’ve had the most anti-Valentine’s Day evening together. There have been no candles or rose petals, no boxes of chocolate or expensive fancy dinners. Instead, it’s been just me and him in his little apartment off campus, more junk food than I’ve had even on a girls’ night in, and — since we really wanted to commit to the anti-holiday thing — we landed on a horror movie instead of a romance one.
It’s been weirdly perfect.
“What was your favorite part of the trip?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “Come on, you know I hate conversations like this. What’s your favorite color?” he mocks.
“Humor me, asshole.” I pinch his side for good measure.
“Fine,” he concedes, then he pulls my hand between his and uses my pointer finger to tap his chin like he’s a cartoon character thinking. “I think my favorite part was the plane ride home.”
I frown. “What? That’s the literal worst part. Of any trip!”
“I disagree.”
“What could you have possibly enjoyed about it?”
“Well, see, there was a solid hour or so where you were zonked out so hard next to me, your mouth was hanging open and there was a little line of drool from the corner of your lips down to your chin.”
My jaw drops, and I try to cover my face with my hands, but Gavin holds onto the one so that I can’t. “Oh, my God. That’s so embarrassing!”
“It was adorable,” he disagrees with a chuckle. “And you leaned your head on my shoulder when your neck started to hurt from leaning the other way. And for that little bit of time, we were just two people on a plane, exhausted from vacation, and I had this post-vacation high still humming through my body. It was an unremarkable moment, but the best kind.”
I smile softly, leaning up from the pillows long enough to capture his mouth with mine. “Careful,” I warned. “That was almost romantic, and we’re doing all the opposite today, remember?”
“I bet I can guess your favorite part.”
“Hit me.”
“It was parasailing.”
“Ohhh, that was fun. Scary as hell, but fun.”
“It wasn’t that scary,” he argues. “Did I guess right?”
“No, actually.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Do tell, then.”
“I thought you hated conversations like this.”
“Tell me, or I’ll tickle it out of you,” he threatens, and he gets me good under the armpits, making me wriggle beneath him as I laugh hysterically. I can’t even breathe, let alone speak, until he stops.
“Brat.”
“Tell me,” he says again, holding his fingers above me and wiggling them in warning.
I chuckle, but then wrap my arms around his biceps where he’s holding them above me, and my eyes flick back and forth between his. “The third night of the trip, after we went to that little beach restaurant — you remember the one, where we had a table on the actual beach, and our toes in the sand as we ate that fancy lobster tail?”
“I remember,” he says, and the corner of his mouth ticks up with the thought.
“Well, we walked back, and had our shoes in our hands. And the moon was full, and we could hear the waves crashing on the shore. And when we got back to our room…” I swallow, not able to look at him directly as I continue, so I stare at his chest, instead. “You undressed me. And you kissed what felt like every possible inch of my body. And then you laid me down and… and… well, you know the rest.”
Gavin is smirking when I look up at him again. “I think I forgot, maybe you should remind me.”
I smack his chest.
“Oh!” he says, nodding. “You mean when I went down on you for about a half an hour until you climaxed? I guess I remember now.”
“Jerk,” I say with my cheeks on fire.
“I’m surprised that’s your favorite part.”
“Well, it was the first time in… a long time,” I say, knowing I don’t have to be explicit with Gavin for him to know what I mean. That’s the benefit of sharing trauma, I suppose.