Page 68 of Fostering Chemistry
A laugh escaped me, and I immediately clamped my hand over my mouth. Cody stilled too. We both waited, expecting the others to turn around and see me on his lap, but the other students were either engrossed in the show or on their phones.
At long last, Cody whispered into my ear, “Guitars aren’t ticklish.”
He withdrew his hands, and for a moment, I thought he was going to lift me off his lap as easily as he’d lifted me onto it. Instead, he looped one arm lightly around my waist, as if he were a seatbelt.
A really muscled, hard-bodied seatbelt.
Heat seared from where I leaned against his chest, and if it weren’t for the show, I would’ve been content to sit there, pressed against him for a long while.
But the large screen was impossible to ignore. Not that I was supposed to be ignoring it, but now it was showing them working with chemicals. This was the part we were supposed to be paying attention to for class, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not when they were making drugs.
I didn’t want this moment with Cody to be ruined by sad thoughts. And I really didn’t want to think about how much I missed Sara right now.
It occurred to me then that lately, I’d spent an awful lot of time not thinking about certain things. Like Sara in rehab. Like Diego at the party.
“You’re not paying attention to the episode,” he murmured.
“Says the guy who composes symphonies in chemistry class.”
I felt his chest rumble and figured that counted as a laugh.
“Not symphonies.”
“Then what do you write?” It was hard to maintain a quiet whisper, but it was also intimate, too. Like we were alone in the dark sharing a secret moment. Which, I supposed, we were. Except for the ‘alone’ part.
“You want to talk about that in the middle of a theater?” he whispered.
And the honest answer was yes, but this probably wasn’t the best place for a real conversation.
“Somewhere else, then. But I’d like to know.” Maybe he’d come to the coffee shop again.
“The music building,” he said softly. “I’ll take you there after class again sometime.” His arm tightened around my waist.
“I’d like that. Will I earn extra credit for that, too?”
“If you’re good.”
Whoa. I hadn’t expected him to whisper those three words in my ear. It sounded sexy with that slight edge to his voice. I still hadn’t figured out what kind of accent it was.
But it was hot.
I shifted on his lap, crossing one leg over the other, which pushed my ass further against him.
His breath caught—I could feel the pause in the way his chest rose and fell behind me. Then it went back to normal.
Suddenly, I didn’t want things to be normal. I leaned my head back, angling it toward his. His hair was shaved short over his ears, and I inhaled deeply. His scent somehow matched him. Mysterious but enticing.
I moved my lips to his ear and spoke as quietly as possible. “You’re a very good musician.”
“You’ve only heard me play once,” he whispered back.
Between the noise of the TV show and the softness of his voice, I couldn’t get a read on his tone.
“I know I like the way you play me.” Hopefully he knew what I meant. Slowly, I raised my hand and lightly cupped the other side of his face. My thumb slid along the stubble lining his jaw.
He was motionless, but he wasn’t tense, not like I’d seen him during Tuesday night dinners. It was more like he was waiting for something.
Maybe I was, too.
