“Crew?”
“Hey, living room.”
Walking into the room, all effortlessly sexy, his smoldering gaze lands on me as he flashes a lascivious smile. His hand is gripping a white plastic bag of some sort of takeout. My insides melt and my brain short-circuits as I take in his appearance. Dressed in a dark purple concert tee, light Levi jeans that I just know hug his ass immaculately, black Converse high-tops, and a backwards sage green trucker hat. He’s switched the usual diamond stud in his nose out for a hoop, and it works for him. He’s a sight for sore eyes.
“Hey,” he rasps, sauntering over to sit next to me on the couch.
“Hey, yourself. What’ve you been up to today?”
“Not much, really. Aston, Knox, and I went out to lunch with my folks. Other than that, just laundry and relaxing.”
“Knox staying with you guys during the summer?”
“Yup. His dad’s still in prison and he has zero contact with his poor excuse of a mother, so while he’s home, he just stays with us. My parents love him and they’re more parents to him than his actual parents ever were.”
Last summer, Knox’s dad went to prison for beating the ever-loving shit out of him. Knox came out to his parents one night, shit hit the fan, and he ended up in the hospital for a while with some pretty severe injuries. It came out after the fact that the abuse wasn’t a one-time thing, instead having happened pretty much his whole life.
“He’s lucky to have you guys.”
“Yeah, well, family isn’t always blood. Sometimes the best family you can have is a found family.”
Anderson’s parents are amazing people. I’ve often wondered how my life would’ve turned out if I had folks like his. If maybe I wouldn’t be such a fuck up, a burden to everyone around me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish they’d take me under their wing the way they did Knox. To have a family that loves me… it would change everything. But there’s no reason to wallow on that. It’s never going to happen.
Desperately wanting to change the subject, I ask, “So, whatcha get for us to eat?”
“Burgers and fries!” He grabs the white bag, opening it and emptying its contents on the coffee table in front of us. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Shit, you know it is. You get bacon on mine?”
“Sure did.”
“Fuck yea. Did you make sure it—”
“Was extra crispy?” he finishes for me. “Sure did.” He hands me a fat burger wrapped in silver aluminum foil and a white paper cup filled to the brim with greasy, delicious French fries. My mouth fucking salivates just from the smell.
“You’re the fucking best, you know that?”
“I know.” He flashes me a cocky, toothy smirk. “Turn on the movie.”
Last time we watched these together, we had finished the fifth one. Turning on the Half-Blood Prince, we fall into a comfortable silence while we continue eating and watch the movie.
At one point about midway through, his phone goes off. Out of my peripheral, Calina’s name pops up on the screen. My petty side does an internal happy dance when he rejects the call and shoves the phone back into his pocket.Ha! Take that, detka.
The sun goes down outside, covering the living room in a blanket of darkness. Only the light from the movie illuminates the room. With the darkness comes a wave of thick tension. It’s as if we’re wrapped in a bubble of unhindered need. My hands itch to reach out and touch him.
“I’m gonna go get some water,” he says out of nowhere. “Want some too?”
“Uh. Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
The insecure, jealous side of me wonders if he’s going into the kitchen to call Calina back, but that’s put to rest when he comes back not even a minute later, two water bottles in hand. He sits down—even closer to me than before—and hands me one, cracking his open and taking a few large swallows.
With the new close proximity, our thighs are touching. His body heat is radiating into me where we’re connected. His usual sandalwood scent envelops my senses instantly. It’s all so fucking intoxicating. There’s no way my attention can be focused on the movie. My brain has tunnel vision and it’s all pointed at him.
Somehow, I’m able to contain myself for the remainder of the movie. The end credits start rolling and, once again, the air morphs into something heady. My body turns so I’m facing him, my eyes studying his every feature and mannerism. The way he’s picking at his fingers and how his knee is bouncing a mile a minute tells me he’s nervous, but when his eyes find mine, they’re flashing with heat.
Nothing is said for a few moments. Both of us taking in the other, as if neither knows where to start or how to make the first move.
“I’ve been thinking about that kiss all day,” Anderson whispers.