Page 49 of For Crosby

Crosby laughed as he sat up, pushing himself back so he leaned against the wall. “Come on,” he said, grabbing his tablet from his nightstand and tapping away at the screen.

I walked over and sat, kicking off my shoes before leaning beside him and stretching out my legs.

He called up a couple movies. I pointed to the recent blockbuster I hadn’t seen. He looked to me. “Seriously?”

“I love action movies. And, I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep watching a chick flick.”

He bumped me with his shoulder. “You’re all right, you know that?”

“Yup,” I said, as he selected the movie. “It’s about time you figured it out.”

He smiled as the opening credits appeared on the screen.

We watched the movie in comfortable silence. It gave me time to think. Since arriving back on campus, I hadn’t had time to consider what I’d done by showing up—or even how I really felt about Crosby now that I’d gotten to know him a little better. He’d entered my life unexpectedly and turned it upside down at times, but he was different than I imagined. Funnier. Thoughtful. Calmer.

Crosby pulled in a deep breath beside me and released it slowly. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he thinking about me the way I was thinking about him? Or was he just focused on the movie like I should’ve been?

One thing I was beginning to understand was the reason for his split personalities. He didn’t know who to trust. His parents screwed him over and then the guys on the team made his transition to our school hell. It made sense that he wouldn’t freely open himself up to people he just met. I guess with him you had to earn it. Was that what was happening between us? Had he been gauging whether or not he could trust me? Was he starting to trust me?

I thought back to the confident way he moved on the ice while showing off for me earlier. The gentle way he held onto me and guided me around the ice. The way he protected me with his body when I oh-so-gracefully knocked us down. Every girl wanted to be treated like she was someone special. And as crazy as it was to admit, being alone with Crosby on the ice made me feel that way.

Beside me, Crosby lifted his hand to his chin, moving his fingers lightly over the stubble dusting his jawline. His arm brushed mine as he did and I tensed. It had been some time since I’d been alone on a bed in a dark room with a guy. And most of the time, even if we’d begun our night watching a movie, we didn’t finish the movie.

My imagination began to run wild. Was Crosby moving his hand a calculated effort to move closer? Was he planning to reach over and try to touch me? Try to grab my hand? Try to…something? We were all alone. No one would interrupt. No one would stop us.

But a minute later, he dropped his hand and was engrossed in the movie.

Inside, I cringed at the inaccuracy of my thoughts.

But now that my traitorous mind had begun to wander, I was becoming more and more aware of Crosby’s presence. His steady breathing beside me. His woodsy fresh scent filling the air. His strong body pressed into my side.

It had been over a year since I’d been with a guy. Was I just horny? Did the darkness automatically mean hooking up for me?

My heartbeat began to quicken, and I felt it thumping everywhere.

Shit.

Twenty-four hours ago I hated Crosby. Why all of a sudden was my body so attuned to his?

He shifted his butt over an inch or two. I held my breath. Was this the moment he’d make a move?

Nope. He was just getting more comfortable.

Frustration crept into my bones. Was I actually disappointed he hadn’t tried anything? Was he not attracted to me? Was I not his type?

After a few more car chases and explosions on the screen, the movie ended. I remained silent and still, a ball of confused nerves.

Crosby turned to look at me. Could he tell where my thoughts had been? Had he felt my heartbeat racing? Had he felt me tense up every time he moved his body?

“You can take the bed,” he said, breaking the silence and reining in my thoughts.

“I’m not taking your bed,” I said, internally berating myself for jumping to conclusions. “It’s your room.”

“And you’re my guest.” He rolled over, careful not to touch me as he hopped over me and stood up. “Where are your keys?”

“I left them on your desk.”

He switched on a small desk light and found my keys, scooping them up and heading to the door.

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