I head up to my room and stop in the doorway, peering around at the brightly colored wrapping paper that covers nearly all my belongings including my bed, desk, closet doors, hamper, and every picture frame on my wall.
A thrill of excitement challenges the ache in my chest born from not hearing from Nolan all weekend. But as I take a second look across my room, a traitorous smile creeps across my lips. I grab my phone and scroll down to Nolan’s name.
Me: Have you heard of boundaries?
A chuckle has me spinning and my heart stopping. Nolan appears from April’s empty room. Gray sweatpants have nothing on the black sweats he’s wearing, loose and formfitting at the same time, pronouncing everything I shouldn’t be looking at. The white tee he’s wearing is loose, and all I can think about is what he’d look like asleep in his bed—in my bed. When I raise my eyes to his face a wide smile shines back at me. His dark blond hair is messily styled in that perfect way it always is, and his eyes look greener from the shadowed hall.
“How long did this take you? And how’d you get in? Where’s your truck?”
His smile grows. “How’d your speech go?” he asks, ignoring my more relevant questions.
I hate that he remembers my speech and I hate the idea of admitting how awful it went even more. “I’m reconsidering my major.”
Nolan’s eyes dance with humor that makes me feel a stab of anger.
“It’s not funny.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You laughed.”
“I didn’t.”
“Your eyes did.”
He tips his head back and laughs aloud this time. “Tell me how it went.”
“Terrible. People couldn’t look away. It was a train wreck.”
“It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“No. It was worse.”
“Did you try picturing everyone in their underwear?” he asks.
“I was trying to focus on not passing out.”
His eyes do another silent laugh.
“I’m serious.”
“Then, maybe you’d be interested in a proposal to add to our arrangement.”
That low thrum in my veins comes to life as though recognizing my new outlet is nearby.
My stomach knots, as the memory of our kiss races through my thoughts. Is he referring to a sexual arrangement? I’m considering the details of a sexual arrangement, what friends with benefits with him would include … andprecludeas memories of the blonde with his number painted on her cheek hits like an iron prod.
Did he sleep with her?
Pride wants me to say no.
That energy in my veins pleads a yes, reminding me of Hannah’s claim that this is the time we’re supposed to make mistakes and be stupid—how science is on my side, defending every awful decision.
I swallow and cut my eyes to Nolan, realizing he hasn’t even made his proposition. It might have nothing to do with kissing or being naked or even being around each other. I fall back on sarcasm. “Does it involve redecorating my room?” I glance back into my room. “God, you killed at least three trees today.”
“Probably ten. You wouldn’t believe how much paper or how long this took me.”
I shake my head, noting how my bed and each of my three pillows is individually wrapped. “What’s your proposal?”