Page 159 of Only With You

If someone had told me a few months ago that I would willingly choose to go to a basketball game, let alone to go support Landon of all people, I would’ve laughed in their face. Because it would have sounded unfathomable after all the malevolence between us.

It’s funny how things change. I’m going to a game to support him despite me not knowing a single thing about basketball. Though I’m still not wearing his number because of what he did Monday and the rest of this week.

I’m extremely salty about it and very much horny, and he knows it. These past few days, he’s been teasing me, touching me, looking at me like he’s ready to take me, but he doesn’t do anything.

I know he’s doing it on purpose, but two can play that game. That’s why I opted to wear Malik’s number and not his. I’d actually ordered the jersey with Landon’s number on it, but after everything he’s put me through, I asked El to let me borrow her sweater that has Malik’s number on it.

When I pivot to look at her, she has a Cheshire grin on her face.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I playfully chide.

She presses her lips together to tame it, but it breaks through and she jumps on my bed.

“I can’t take this anymore,” she blurts out. “I know it’s none of my business, but I will give you my firstborn if you tell me what is going on between you and Landon.”

“We’re just getting along.”

Polly clasps her hands together, her strawberry-blond ponytail swishing at the motion. “Oh, come on, I’m dying here, Juls. Please, I’m begging you for crumbs.”

I laugh. “I promise there’s nothing interesting to say.”

Everyone at this point knows we’re messing around. Still, that doesn’t stop them from staring at us like we’re an eclipse or something unworldly.

Especially when I head up to his room and stay the night. That seems to really throw the guys off and I don’t understand why. I’m not naive to believe Landon’s never had anyone in his room. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s had quite a few girls over, and it’d make sense, considering how experienced he is.

Even though they all know, neither Landon nor I have talked about what we’d say if anyone asked. Sometimes, I want to ask, but I’m afraid to pop the bubble we’ve encased ourselves in.

Her jaw drops on a scoff. “Nothing interesting? Just a few months ago, you guys couldn’t stand each other. You guys couldn’t even be in the same room. Now…” she trails off, a small, disbelieving laugh expelling from her. “Now, you two look at each other and you both get stuck in this world that feels like no one else can be a part of. Don’t get me started on how you’re the first person he’s ever let be in his room or how he shared his cereal with you.”

That stuns me and I take a seat next to her. “I’m the first person he’s let in his room?”

She smiles like she’s not sure if I’m being serious or not. “Yeah, he doesn’t like anyone in his space, because he gets a little overstimulated.”

A little is an understatement.

“Understatement?”

I hadn’t realized I said that out loud, but I don’t reply right away. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything he shared with me and I meant it. I’d never break his trust.

“I just meant, it’s not just a little.” I flit my gaze to my lap, staring down at my manicured nails. “Hey, can we get rid of the alcohol in the apartment?”

“Sure, but why?”

“I would just prefer not to have it. It’s not like we drink much to begin with.”

I actually don’t drink anymore. I don’t find it necessary, and I like knowing Landon feels comfortable to be around me when everyone else is drinking.

Polly’s eyes narrow and a wide grin flourishes on her face. “Yeah, no problem. We can get rid of it.”

My mind circles back to everything he’s shared with me and my heart shrivels at the thought. All I want to do is hug him and tell him he never has to feel like that ever again. I always want to say so many things when I see him, but I worry I’m overstepping, that he’ll think I’m doing it out of pity. Sometimes, I work up the courage to tell him, but then he pulls back and closes in on himself again.

Though at least now, he doesn’t look like he regrets sharing things with me. He seems a little more open. His eyes don’t look so vacant, and occasionally, I can pull a smile from him.

Maybe that’s all I can do, or all I’ll ever get to do, but so be it if it means he doesn’t have to fester on those thoughts alone.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask her.

The thousands of questions that lingered in her eyes are gone, replaced with something like understanding.

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