Page 46 of The Fake
He shakes his head. “It’s not you. I just don’t sleep well.”
“So you work out instead? Like the running before bed.”
A small shrug accompanies his answer. “Passes the time.”
I turn my attention to the TV, easily getting lost in the episode. He turns the volume on, and the sound reminds me of my mission. “I should go.”
“Let me grab a shirt, and I’ll walk you.”
“That’s really not necessary.” I step to the door quickly to emphasize the point.
“I’m not letting you walk home alone in the middle of the night.” He starts for the stairs. “Give me just a minute.”
Once we’re outside, I’m glad he’s with me. I’d like to think I’m pretty tough, but it wouldn’t have been the smartest move to walk home by myself.
Our pace is slow, and we walk side by side, so close our arms brush, even though there’s no one around to see us. It’s like our bodies seek each other, bridging the gap the daylight and our brains won’t allow.
There’s a puddle on the sidewalk from the sprinklers that run twice a day, and I angle my next step to avoid it and, in the process, break our connection. Goosebumps dot my arms from the chill of the night and the withdrawal of his heat. My body is quite literally protesting the separation.
Dear Brain,
This isn’t real. Get your shit together.
Signed,
Me
His beautiful blue eyes flash to me and I step in closer. This time, when our arms touch, he grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers. My heart hammers in my chest.
“Tonight was fun.”
He nods.
The dorm is in sight, and I announce it like he can’t see it for himself. I comment on the full moon. Another nod. This whole silent thing he has going on is making me too tense, too hyperaware.
“There are so many stars out.”
Silence.
“Did you live in Freddy before you—”
He pulls me to him, and the end of that sentence is cut off by the hard smack of my free hand against his chest.
“Wha—”
He chuckles and lightly places his hand at my mouth, not covering it exactly but making it clear he wants me to be quiet. “I really want to kiss you, and you’re making it damn near impossible to find a moment your lips aren’t otherwise occupied.”
He drops his hand, and I keep my lips firmly shut. He waits, maybe for me to protest or maybe because he thinks I’m dumb enough to speak after that speech—hello? I’m not speaking. Kiss me already—but finally, his lips drop to mine.
His arms wrap around my waist, and I press into him. I open my mouth and he takes over. Not unlike the first time, our kiss is full of want and desire that makes me lose myself. When his hands slide down to my ass and he pulls me into him, I moan into his mouth. He feels so good.Thisfeels so good.
We’re roaming hands and sloppy kisses. He dips his chin and presses his forehead to mine. Our chests both rise and fall as we catch our breath.
“We should probably take this inside before the campus police stumble on us going at it in front of your dorm.”
He takes my silence as agreement and steps toward the door. When I don’t move, he turns to see why I’m planted in my spot. I’m rooted in place by all the reasons I know this is a bad idea and maybe by my own insecurities, too.
“I don’t… I mean, we shouldn’t.”
