Page 11 of Gifted

He studied me for a long moment. “Sure.”

Swinging his laptop up on his lap, he opened his program then turned the screen toward me so I could see the selection.

“Those are some old movies.”

“Not that old.”

“They’re older than you. They’re old. Some of these came out in the eighties and nineties.”

“I’ll have you know I was born in late nineteen-hundreds.”

I rolled my eyes at him.

“Jurassic Park, Independence Day, and Men in Black are classics. And who doesn’t love Breakfast Club?”

“I didn’t think a teacher would,” I scoffed. I pointed. “How about that one?”

“Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure?”

I shrugged.

“I like history. Of these, that’s what I’m most interested in. The movie might not be accurate, but it’s fun.” And if I remembered correctly, there wasn’t anything overtly sexual in it.

I pointed at Knight’s Tale. “Your selection of movies is…weird.”

“It’s called eclectic, mindless fun.”

“Okay. Whatever.” Grabbing a pillow, I propped it behind me against the wall. I watched Noah’s butt as he set up the laptop on the desk chair that he’d pulled up against the bed. Nice and round. I wondered if it was hard from workouts. I thought maybe it must be. Even in his jeans, I could just about see the indentation in the side of his ass, showing the definition of the muscles.

My eyes averted to my bent-up knees when he straightened and climbed up to sit beside me. Shoulder to shoulder. So close. My fingers curled, longing to touch him again.

Focusing on breathing slowly through my nose, I stared at the screen. It was all I could do, even if I didn’t see a thing.

* * * *

I must have fallen asleep. Who fell asleep during Bill and Ted? But I must have because the room as dark, and I was curled beneath the blankets on the bed. Alone. Which meant Noah was on the floor someplace.

Rolling over, I peered over the edge. Yep. There he was. I tipped back over onto my back and stared at the shadowy ceiling.

“Go to sleep,” he rumbled quietly from below.

Crap. And he was awake.

“I can’t.”

“You were asleep a few minutes ago.”

“That was different,” I muttered. He’d been up here beside me. I’d probably dropped my head right onto his shoulder without realizing it. “Just…”

“No,” he said, intercepting my thought.

“Why not? We’re both adults.”

“The fact of the matter is we’re not.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. That couldn’t have hurt more if he’d reached out and slapped me. Tears rushed to my eyes, burning with lava-like heat.

“I’m eighteen,” I whispered, turning into the wall and wanting to get as far from him as I could. Even without him in the bed, he seemed too close suddenly. God, I’d been about to invite him to climb in with me, and he thought I was a child.

“Yeah, you are. And I’m twenty-eight.”

I didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

“And you’re a student at the school where I teach.”

“But not your student,” I muttered into my pillow. My lips curled in, and I bit down to keep any sound in.

“Poppy.”

I didn’t answer. Maybe, he’d think I’d gone back to sleep. I didn’t move. I barely breathed. But my heart ached, ripping in half as I realized everything I’d hoped for, imagined in my mind, was worthless. A stupid, childish pipe dream.

---