“I saw some of Gianna’s friends down there and figured it would be best to steer clear.”
I smile. “But they’ll notice that you’re not down there.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t care.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I’d rather hang out with you.”
I look around his room and Camdenthe a little easier now that I’m not so cold. “Your game tonight went really well.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“You’re really good.”
He smiles like he’s flattered. “That’s what they say.”
I smirk. “I can tell you feel good.”
His face moves. “Yeah? How?”
My heart races as he walks over to me. “You look like you’ve…” I gesture with my hands, inhaling and exhaling.
He stops right in front of me. “Yeah, it’s the start of the season, so I’m excited, but,” he pauses to look down at me, “this isn’t entirely from the game.”
“No?”
He shakes his head. “No.” He smiles. “See, this girl that’s been driving me wild for weeks came to my game.”
My Camdenth stutters as butterflies surface. “Stop.”
He nods. “It meant a lot to see her there. And now I’m dying on the inside.”
I grin at his motion. His hand is squeezing an invisible heart.
“You don’t look like you’re dying.”
His hooded eyes look at me, the bed, and then his laptop. “I am,” he says, grabbing his laptop. “It’s internal, so you can’t see it.” He opens his laptop. “What do you want to watch?”
I shake my head. “Just put on music.”
He pauses for a second, and then he types on his laptop. “Music,” he mutters under his Camdenth.
I sit on the edge of his bed. He plays a playlist on low. When he turns around, he claps his hands. “Okay, this is still a party, so you have options.”
“Options?” I question. I can’t wait to hear what it is.
He walks over to his dresser and shows me that he has a pack of beers and a bottle of vodka.
I mutter, “Jesus.”
He laughs and turns back. He opens the top drawer, which I can tell isn’t used for clothes. He pulls out playing cards, Uno, and dominoes.
I sit up taller to look in the drawer. “What else do you have in there?”
“Random stuff. It’s my junk drawer.”
I turn my attention to the alcohol and feel a little sick when I imagine those contents in my stomach. “What’s the alcohol for? Are you planning on getting me drunk, Benson?”
