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Nope. All I could think about was kissing. More specifically, the lack of it.
Proof that I am indeed a pervert? Possibly.
How was a girl not supposed to think about it, though? Especially when the scent of the man she wanted to kiss clung to her all day because she’d slept in his bed. In his shirt. When she woke up screaming and he crawled between the covers and held her, whispering everything would be all right. When she wore his ring but never his lips.
Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. He did kiss me. On the forehead, the temple, the tip of my nose. I even got a couple brief brushes of his lips on mine. Know what that did?
Turned me into a pervert. Got my hormones all riled up.
I wanted more. I wanted mouth on mouth. I wanted to taste his breath, hear him groan, know what the texture of his tongue was like and how it felt stroking against mine.
Also, why were his shirts so much more comfortable than mine? Why did the sweater and jacket I was dressed in—my own clothes—make me slightly agitated and uncomfortable?
It was like I’d forgotten my own sense of fashion and only remembered what it was like to wear his worn, oversized hoodies that were permanently scented of chlorine and man.
Oh. Right. I did forget what it was like to wear my own clothes.
The professor dismissed the class, and I congratulated myself on making it through my first day of classes since mind-dumping literally everything. As I packed up, I wondered who would be waiting for me outside.
After waking up to some inhumanely early alarms, Ben took me to get coffee and then my dorm to reintroduce me to my roommate. He must have called and told her what was up because she didn’t act surprised that we showed up at the crack of dawn or that I didn’t know her. As anxious as I’d been to come here yesterday, I worried it would be weird. Thankfully, it wasn’t, and I was relieved the place felt vaguely familiar and comfortable. It made me think that perhaps the doctor was right. Being in my familiar surroundings and going through my normal routine would be good for me.
Lainey was sweet and patient, explaining everything we usually did and showing me my side of the room. We didn’t have a private bathroom like Ben and Matt. We shared ours with the entire floor. Apparently, Elite were spoiled rotten at Westbrook. Ben made himself comfortable while I poked around, stretching out on the bed like he’d done it a thousand times before. He probably did. Lainey was awfully charmed by him, her eyes always straying in his direction while she laughed at his idiotic comments. Kinda made me jealous.
After changing into my own clothes, using my own products in my usual bathroom, and combing out the ends of my tangled hair (I didn’t get too close to my scalp because it was still sore and stitched up) Ben walked me to my first class. When it was over, Matt was waiting outside to walk me to the next one. After that, I had lunch with Rory, Madison, and Landry. Toward the end, Rush arrived, and he and Landry walked me to my third and final class of the day.
I thought it was sweet the way they all showed up throughout the day, and I enjoyed the little bit of time with them all because it gave me a chance to get to know them all over again.
“Jess? Hey.”
I glanced up from my bag at the sound of a new voice.
A tall guy with dark hair, dark eyes, and a lip ring approached. He was dressed in slim-fit grey-and-black plaid chinos. With it, he wore a long-sleeved black T-shirt with a neon-green Metallica logo on the front. The shirt was loose except for the little bit of hem tucked behind the buckle of the black belt low on his waist.
His white low-top sneakers velcroed instead of tied and had silver studs all over the toes. His hair was dark and messy, falling over his ears and forehead.
I stared, saying nothing as I took in all the details of his appearance as I could, right down to his blue eyes and the two lip rings at the corner of his mouth.
He stopped in front of me, leaving plenty of space between us, which put me at ease. I felt dumb because strangers made me wary. Which, sure, I guess wasn’t really dumb because, you know, stranger danger. But… Technically, he wasn’t a stranger, right? I mean, he was in my class. I’d obviously seen him before. Probably talked to him considering he approached me and knew my name.
People continued filing out of the room around us while I sat there fiddling with the zipper on my bag, not sure what to say.
He half smiled, reaching to curl a hand around the strap of the messenger bag slung across his body. My attention snagged on the belted leather cuff around his wrist and the braided cord bracelets stacked alongside it. There was a silver ring around his thumb and another around his pinky.
“I thought you might want a copy of my notes,” he said, gesturing to some papers he clutched in his other hand.
In fact, he had a nice voice. Calm.
“Your notes,” I echoed.
He nodded. “Yeah, you missed a couple classes.” His eyes fell to the cast on my foot. “Heard you had an accident.”
“Where’d you hear that?” I wondered.
“It’s kinda all over,” he said, sheepish.
“Right,” I murmured. I mean, I guess some girl busting her butt down the stairs and landing in the hospital would be something to talk about.
“Anyway, you took notes for me that time I was sick, so I figured I’d return the favor.”
