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I did, I think, glancing away. I watched it with Gabe and some other friends last month.
“Or-or not.”
My eyes fall shut and I shake my head. “Yeah, I mean, sure. Let’s watch it.”
Pale blue eyes glimmer back at me when I lift my head, hope peeking out from their depths.
“I’m just gonna…”—I jack a thumb behind me—“change first real quick.”
He nods. “Yeah, go for it.”
“TV’s been disconnected, so…” I shrug. “My laptop’s in there,” I say, gesturing to the bag I let fall on the floor. “Same password. Remember it?”
“Yep.”
Leaving him to it, I dig a clean pair of black gym shorts and a white t-shirt from my suitcase, and head into the connecting bathroom.
When I’m done, my steps falter when I find Mason reclining against the headboard sans sweatshirt, laptop propped up on his lap with the movie ready to go, like it’s nothing at all—like we’re teenagers again, just hanging the fuck out.
He twists his head, doing a double-take when he sees me.
“What?” I say, self-conscious all of a sudden, my heart pounding.
But with my parents gone, the central air hasn’t been turned on, and it’s stuffy in here. I fight the urge to wrap my arms around myself, and make myself smaller. It’s been so long since I cared about what I slept in—it’s just a t-shirt and shorts, for fuck’s sake—and so caught up in my racing, spiraling thoughts…it just didn’t even occur to me to dig out sweats.
“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Just…the hair keeps catching me off-guard.”
I narrow my eyes.
He holds up a hand and grins. “Not in a bad way.”
“Sure.” Dropping my dirty clothes in a pile against the wall, I flip on the lamp, and turn the overhead light off.
“I mean it. You look really good, JJ.”
I pause, hesitating climbing into bed, and lift my gaze. “Don’t call me that.” Does he hear my voice trembles?
He smirks, and I roll my eyes, gesturing for him to scoot.
When my ass hits the soft mattress, I fall back against the headboard with a groan.
A choked sound, almost like a cough, sounds from next to me. “You good?”
I roll my head, peeking over at an amused Mason. There’s something else there too, but I can’t make out what it is.
“Dorm beds suck,” I tell him.
“Ah.”
“It’s like…half the width of this, and like three times as hard.” I wave a hand around. “I didn’t realize how used to it I’ve gotten.”
“Gotcha,” he says in an oddly tight voice, like he’s trying not to laugh. “That sucks.”
I eye him curiously. “Yeah,” I say slowly, my mouth twitching, “it does.”
He chuckles, before growing serious once more, almost wistful…sad, even. “You…you really like it, don’t you? Being there.”
I nod.
