I roll my eyes, finish my beer, and slam it harder than necessary on the table. I tried, at least. I made an effort with the dude. I congratulate myself on pushing past my comfort zone and then stand up, lumbering over to the trash can and tossing the glass bottle inside.
“Recycling, please,” Whit says the moment the lid closes. It’s one of those nice ones that shuts slowly and silently. I hate it.
I send him a glare.
This guy.
Pulling the bottle from the trashcan, I toss it into the recycling bin sitting on the far end of the kitchen. It clatters inside noisily, and I feel smug for a moment. Hope I ruined his concentration.
“Better?” I ask dryly, and Whit side-eyes me before focusing his attention back on his book.
This guy is cryptic as fuck. It’s one of the reasons my cousins wanted to meet him tonight. Mainly because since moving in two weeks ago, I’ve mulled over him, his behavior, his attitude. Out loud. Because Icannotfigure him out. The topic of Whit has dominated all areas of conversation. My nosy cousins were almost invested in figuring him out as I am.
They say I have a crush.
Nah, it’s an obsession.
Because straight guys don’t have crushes on other dudes.
Nope.
It's just that…look, I’m not the brightest bulb, but I do have strong emotional intelligence. Usually, I can read people like a book, but I can’t get a read on this guy for the life of me. He’s like a sealed vault. No one in or out.
And trust me, I’ve tried. I’ve snooped. I’ve researched. I’ve stalked. I’ve drawn the line at asking my cousin Sem to do some digging. So, I’ve got nada. I’ve seen him around campus, walkingaloneor at home,alone. I’ve never seen him socialize with anyone, and I sure as shit haven’t seen him flirting with anyone. Perhaps he just doesn’t like people. He sure as shit doesn’t like me.
An enigma, this one.
Everyone likes me.
“Well, I’m heading out then. For a fun night oftrivia.”
“Good,” he says, without taking his eyes off his book.
I stare at him for a long, drawn out moment before scratching at my stomach and glancing down.
Shit. Probably should change into something without oil stains on it. Have to make an impression, especially if I want tomaybe,possiblyget some. It’s been a while.
Been a while for a lot, actually.
Haven’t been touched by anyone in weeks.
Platonically too.
God, I miss my mom.
Her hugs were the best.
Probably should call my aunt and visit her. She’s the next best thing.
I push the multiplying thoughts from my mind and grab the back of my shirt, pulling it over my head.
Whit’s eyes dart over to me, and they linger a little too long on my abs before moving back to his book. A faint blush darkens those pale cheeks, and I find myself puffing out my chest, making sure to flex. I work hard on my body and feel proud he seems to have noticed. He usually has no glances to spare.
I make sure to walk by.
Slowly.
He peeks over at me again, and I bite back a smile before walking to the room we share and pulling on a clean shirt.