“Whit, what the hell are you doing?” I ask grumpily.
“I need to distract myself.”
“By cleaning?”
“I need to…I need space to breathe, or else I’m going to fuck you into a coma. Your aunt would kill me. Your cousins would bury me alive.”
“You’re killing me. Literally.”
“Think of it as a safety precaution.
“Fine,” I grumble. “You win, but when I’m better, I’m stripping you down, and we aren’t leaving this apartment until I’m done exploring.”
Something crashes to the ground in the kitchen, and I smile to myself.
Yeah, Whit, just you wait. Asshole.
* * *
Whit is attentive yet aloof for the next four days. He’s careful not to touch me too much for fear that the monster between my legs will awake, I’m sure. But he never leaves me alone. He’s always there looking fucking delicious and unavailable.
And when he needs to leave to go to class, he asks Mal to come hang out with me. And when Mal can’t, Magnus is there, kicking my ass in video games.
“I met your cousin,” Magnus says, sitting next to me on the couch. He’s wearing a red crop top and black ankle-length skinny jeans. I’ve never seen a dude dress like him. In my entire life.
What must my cousins think?
The thought makes me chuckle.
“Which one?”
I look over at Magnus again and see his little brow furrowed, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth.
“Sem. He drove me home from the hospital.”
He bites down on his lips as his fingers press aggressively at the controller.
This is news to me, and now my focus is split between the screen and the little dude next to me. “
“And how was that?”
He flushes and shrugs. “Fine. Didn’t talk much. Just stared at me whenever he could.”
I chuckle at that, and images of a confused Sem pop into my brain. “He’s probably never seen a little dude like you before. What were you wearing?”
“Nothing too crazy,” he says, and I snort, but it's cut short when he hops up from the couch and pumps his fist into the air.
“Killed you, motherfucker.”
My eyes widen at that, and then I laugh, “You’re fucking weird, tiny.”
“I know, but best to just go with it, yeah?”
“Yeah. Guess so.”
Mag leans back against the couch. “Sem asked for my number.”
“Did he now?”