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"I can't."
"Why the hell not?" He doesn't wait for a response. "I'm getting a new place. You need a new place. It's perfect."
I play with the pockets of my jeans. "I don't want to impose."
"You don't."
"But you're so set to live alone."
He shifts toward me. His hand brushes against mine. "I'm set to live with someone who will respect my privacy." His eyes find mine. "I have absolute faith in you."
"Are you staying in LA that long?"
He nods. "It's home base now." His mood lightens. "It's a sweet deal. I'm on tour half the year but I pay my share of the rent every month. Place will be yours for three and a half months starting in April."
I nod. It would be a sweet deal with anyone but Drew.
Drew's hand closes around my right wrist. He looks me in the eyes. "Give me one good reason why not?"
How about the feeling coursing through my body, begging me to get back on that bed with him?
Drew doesn't see me that way. He's never going to see me that way. Being around him constantly...
It will drive me out of my damn mind.
"I have many reasons," I say.
He holds my stare. "So name one."
That's a bit more difficult.
Drew holds out his hand to shake. "We'll pick out a place together. Deal?"
Deal? I can't make a deal like this. Not if I want to live to graduate from college. Not if I want to keep breathing and sleeping and thinking.
I take a step backward. "Let me sleep on it."
"If you come to dinner with me."
"I have to study."
He slides his hand around my waist. "I'll throw you over my shoulder if I have to."
This time, I'm not challenging him.
I nod, and follow him to the car.
Truth is, I want to go to dinner with Drew. I want to live with Drew. I want everything with Drew. I’ve liked him since the day his family moved in to the house down the block and he invited me over to watch Batman cartoons.
I was eleven. He was one year older, already six inches taller than I was, already effortlessly cool. We were close until high scho
ol pushed as apart. By the time he went off to college, we weren’t speaking. I figured I’d never see him again. Then he became a rock star, and I knew I’d never see him again.
I was wrong. About a year ago, he got back in touch. He wasn’t a narcissistic fame whore who plowed through groupies. He was still Drew, that same caring, over-protective guy who could always see through me, who made me feel safe.
It was impossible to do anything but be his best friend.
Yes, I want him more than I want to breathe. I like him. More than that even.
