Page 3 of Fostering Chemistry
I nodded, still trying to make myself small enough to disappear.
Did Diego recognize me? Maybe I’d know if I were actually paying attention to what he was saying. With effort, I tuned back in. “We owe a lot to Richard,” he said, smiling warmly.
Who the hell was Richard?
Diego stood tall and straight, his dark eyes warm. Eyes that didn’t seem to be focused on me, but that didn’t mean anything.What if he stopped in the middle of his spiel, pointed, and said, “It’s the drunk girl from the party!”?
At the very least, he could call me theprettydrunk girl. That might be a small consolation, as I died of mortification.
“Richard Baylor hosted many foster children of his own, so, as some of you with more advanced classes may have guessed, that’s why we call this the Baylor House. Richard wanted former foster children to have a place with others who understood them. That’s why he’s provided room and board, free of charge, to each of us.”
There were polite chuckles from my fellow students, which showed that they liked Diego, given that they’d likely heard this speech before.
“We all have a duty to honor Richard’s gift by respecting this house and each other,” Diego continued. “That means following university rules. No underage drinking. No wild parties.”
Shit. Had he looked at me when he said that? I peered back at him from under my lashes. He was objectively gorgeous—far better looking than the flashes of images I had from that night. His dark hair was slicked back with some height to it. The fuzzy memories of me raking my fingers through it made my thighs clench.
“I’m not going to lie to you. Right now, most of us are just acquaintances. I’m sure you’ve all met foster parents who expected you to act like family from day one. But in time, I hope you’ll develop lifelong friendships. I know I have.” He glanced at Aaron. “The bottom line is?—”
“We don’t have to be friends,” said a guy off to the left. He was the one sitting in an armchair. “We just have to respect each other’s space and privacy.”
“Thank you, Raymond. I was just getting to that.” Diego was patient and unruffled. “We talk about consent a lot these days, which is a good thing. But it applies to more than just sex.”
I flinched and just about jumped off the couch when he said that. Aaron gave me another look.
“It also applies to our personal space, as Raymond said. Don’t enter someone else’s room without permission. Treat them with respect and they’ll treat you with respect.”
Aaron snorted softly. “Not sure that’s always the way it works,” he said under his breath. I gave him a small smile when he glanced over.
“But consent does apply to sex, too.”
The shock didn’t lessen the second time Diego said that three-letter word. He couldn’t be messing with me, could he? He sounded earnest. At least, I thought he did. The flames on my face were short-circuiting my brain.
“We’re all adults,” he continued. “What you choose to do with a consenting partner is your business—just make sure you don’t make it ours. No lovers’ quarrel at three a.m. No banging on doors looking for a condom. And no doing it down here on a sofa.”
I jolted again, clapping my hand over my mouth to make sure I didn’t yelp in surprise. We’d been on a sofa, him sitting down, me with my knees on either side of his thighs. Both of us with our hands and mouths very busy.
Aaron was giving me a questioning look again, but I stared at the coffee table, carefully not looking at anyone. Aaron was a very nice guy, but after this evening, he’d think I was insane. And as for Diego—well, I hoped he never thought of me at all. Especially not in conjunction with a sofa.
“Where was I?” Diego asked, pausing. He ran a finger along a jawline that looked as if it had been carved by the gods. I’d kissed that jawline. I’d felt his stubble tickle my skin.
“Sex,” the guy on the other couch said, and the others laughed.
Apparently, those same gods who’d given Diego his chiseled looks were intent on torturing me tonight.
“Consent,” Diego corrected. “Which is a close cousin to respect. Be careful about your housemates’ belongings. Don’t take their food or borrow their things without asking.”
“What about stealing? We don’t have to ask before doing that, right?” Aaron said.
Diego smiled, and it made his face light up. Had he smiled that night at the party? Probably not since we’d been kissing the whole time. “Yeah, don’t do that.”
“And don’t take anyone else’s food,” Raymond said. He had sandy blond hair. His nose tilted slightly upward, like it disapproved of the air the rest of us were breathing. He seemed either unaware or unconcerned that Diego had just said that. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aaron look over, too. He didn’t appear to be happy with Raymond’s interruptions.
But Diego took it in stride. “Exactly. We have a system in the kitchen. Some shelves and cupboards are for communal food, and you’ll each have your own space. I can show you, or someof the residents who’ve been around for longer can.” Again, he glanced at Aaron, which freaked me out, since Aaron was sitting right next to me.
Diego clasped his hands together. “That’s basically it. There is an official list of house rules, and it should be on the desk of your bedroom, if you’re new.” He looked my way, and I fought the urge to try to dodge his gaze. “As for me, I’m a student, and a product of the foster care system, just like you all, but my door is always open. If you’re having problems here in the house, or in your classes, please don’t hesitate. I’m here to help. Aaron calls me a den mother, and hey, maybe I am. Just don’t expect me to take you camping to earn your junior explorer badge.”
Everyone chuckled again, and the two people on the other couch started to get up.
