Page 51 of Kingston
How did you get into my room?
There’s a key to all the rooms on
top of every doorframe.
For emergencies.
Was last night an emergency?
In my eyes, yes.
I’m sorry I scared you.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, bend to pick up our bags with one hand, and jerk my head toward the sidewalk. This time, when we take off, she slips her hand into mine.
About a minute later, she tugs on it, so I turn to her, giving a questioning smirk. But what I end up seeing is she’s having to hurry along beside me. On instinct, I slow, then cock my head at her. Being the way I am, I spend a lot of time watching and listening. And I’d definitely noticed her slower than normal gait this morning. I just… forgot. Like an asshole.
Pulling out my phone, I let my fingers fly.
She’s waiting with hers when the message comes through.
I noticed you’re moving
slowly this morning.
Are you okay?
I wait a beat while her face turns red, and she covers her face with her hand. “Oh god. That’s embarrassing. Um, yes. I’m fine now, thank you. I’m sorry. You’re really tall. And walk really fast.”
And she wouldn’t have to walk home at all if it were anyone but me with her. I blow out a harsh breath, scrubbing my hand through my hair. I stop right in the middle of the walkway, forcing other students to move around us.
“What’re you doing?”
I turn my back toward her and stoop, then pat my shoulder to let her know she should climb onto my back.
“What? No,” she says sharply.
I turn around at her tone. Her eyes are focused on the pavement at our feet. Confused by the sudden shift in attitude, I frown, not sure what to make of it.
She works her jaw back and forth for a few seconds before she quietly says, “I’m not making you carry me.”
Dude.Is this like one of those chick things where they don’t want you to know how much they weigh? Pressing my lips together, I drop our bags on the ground, hook my hands under her armpits and lift her straight up into the air.
Not only does she gasp, but so does everyone else around us. And then there’s some amused laughter when I start doing overhead presses.
“Cannon,” she hisses, trying to hold back a laugh. “Put me down.”
Bossy.I think I’m in love.
When I set her on her feet, I give her a look that I hope she recognizes as me requesting, once again, to do what I’ve asked. Pivoting on my heel, I squat down, and by some miracle, this time she wraps her arms around my neck and leans into me. I grab our bags, looping them over one arm, then stand, hiking her up higher on my back and hooking my arms under her thighs.
Near my ear, she whispers so low I almost don’t hear her, “Thank you.”
I’ll be walking back to the house with a hard-on from both the feel of her body pressed up against mine and those two words, soft and sweet from her lips.
TWENTY-SEVEN
ELLIOT
