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It doesn't matter.
Brendon doesn't look at me that way.
I think.
He's not saying anything.
I'm not saying anything.
We're just standing in this room with my underwear on display, saying nothing.
His gaze moves to the walls. "I'm sorry I missed seeing it in its glory."
"Huh?"
He nods to the bare walls.
"Oh." He's never been in my room. With the way my heart is pounding and my body is buzzing, it makes perfect sense. He's here. My bed is there. It would be so easy to combine those two things. "I'm going to attempt to recreate the majesty at your place."
"Our place."
"Our place." It feels funny on my tongue, but I will get used to it. The house in Venice Beach isn't Brendon and Emma's place. It's our place. My place.
I live with Brendon.
I live with the guy who refuses to leave my head.
I can handle that. Totally.
He nods to the bedside drawer. "I can make myself scarce if you need to pack anything personal."
"Why would I..." Oh. My blush spreads to my chest. I stammer. "No. I don't. I don't have one of those."
He arches a brow. Teasing. Maybe.
"No. But. Um." I'm going to die of embarrassment. "I don't use those."
"You're missing out."
"What?" I manage to look at him for an entire second. Two even. His expression is light, but there's curiosity in his eyes. He really wants to know. "Why do you care?"
He shrugs. "You should get one."
"Oh." This is... My head is spinning.
I can't place his tone.
Is it you should get one so I can use it on you?
Or is it masturbation is healthy and awesome, you should get a vibrator awkward but necessary mentor/Dad/older brother talk?
I...
Uh...
My body goes straight to the former.
I can't think.
