“Oh. Yes.” Crew helps me out of it and I smile up at him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t look so scared, Birdy. It’s just a movie.” He takes my coat and hangs it on the rack by his door, which he shuts.
And locks.
I notice the laptop sitting in the middle of his bed. “Where are we watching the movie?”
“Thought we could kick it on my bed,” he suggests, his tone casual.
“Your bed?” I squeak out, trying to swallow down my nervousness.
“I won’t try anything you don’t want me to,” he says.
See, that’s the problem. I might want him to try all sorts of things…
“No, that’s fine.” I play it off because I can. I’m not scared of him. Or of this—connection that’s growing between us. It’s overwhelming, and okay, it’s a little frightening too, but I’m so tired of being scared of boys and kissing and naked bodies and sex.
It’s natural. I’m almost an adult. Less than a month until my 18th birthday. Shouldn’t I have kissed a couple of boys by now? Fallen in love, only for the boy to break my heart into a million pieces?
Not that I want my heart broken, but I should be further along than this.
“You want any snacks?” He heads over to a shelf I didn’t notice when I first came inside, and I realize there’s a mini fridge in his suite. He grabs a bag of popcorn off the shelf, along with a box of Milk Duds, handing them over to me. “I’ve got more.”
I take the bag of popcorn from him. “We can share.”
“Want anything to drink?” He bends down and opens the mini fridge, and I see a few bottles of water and cans of Coke. A couple of bottles of beer.
“Just water, please.”
When he stands and hands me the water bottle, I take it from him with a murmured thank you, our gazes locking. He seems nervous. To have me in his room?
This is very un-Crew-like of him.
I watch him settle in on the bed first. He’s got a pile of pillows and he leans against one stack, then pats the empty spot beside him. “Sit down.”
I set my bottle of water on the nightstand before I join him, tossing the bag of popcorn in his direction. He catches it, settling it next to him before he leans over and grabs his laptop.
Leonardo DiCaprio’s face is huge across the screen, elegant in a tuxedo, his golden hair swept to the side.
“Ready to play, just like I promised,” Crew says, and when he glances over at me, I smile.
“Push play then. I have to be back in my dorm by—” I check the time on his laptop. “A little over three hours.”
“You showed up early.”
“I was worried it would take me a while to walk over here. The sidewalks are getting slick.”
“It’s cold out there.”
“Nice and warm in here though.”
He says nothing. Just hits the space bar on his laptop and the movie starts playing. He holds it in his lap, angling it toward me and I give in to comfort, leaning my head against the pillows behind me, rolling on my side as I reach for the bag of popcorn. I tear it open, grabbing a handful before I hand it over to him, and we share it, occasionally dipping our hands inside at the same time, our fingers colliding. Tangling.
I’m achingly aware of his presence, and I can’t even concentrate on the movie, though Crew was right. It’s visually stunning, and I want to pay attention, but he’s a complete distraction.
He’s so close, I could reach out and touch him easily. I study his face, the way his hair falls over his forehead, and he keeps shoving it back. He smells fresh and clean, as if he took a shower before I arrived, and I’m half-tempted to bury my face in his neck, so I can inhale his scent.
Crew changes position, mimicking mine, resting his head on a stack of pillows and lying on his side. He sets the laptop in between us before he glances over at me to find I’m already watching him.