“Definitely,” I say, my smile full of mischief.
He reaches for my book and starts to close it, but I slap my hand down on it, forcing it to stay open. “After we finish studying.”
Mac’s expression changes rapid-fire between excited, shocked, and disappointed, but it lands on a grin. The very same one that used to annoy the hell out of me.
“I would complain, but this is one of my top three favorite things to do with you,” he says.
Mac slings his backpack off his back and sets it on the chair next to him. He’s still sweaty from the gym, and it takes all my self-control not to crawl across this table and climb onto his lap. Four months of dating and I still cannot get enough of this guy. It doesn’t matter if he’s sweaty or wearing a suit or jeans—I can’t seem to keep my hands off him.
“What are your other two favorite things to do with me?” I ask.
He smirks, raising his eyebrows. “I’ll show you later.” And then, adorably, he opens his textbook and starts to actually study.
I take a moment and drink him in, remembering the time I spent resenting him, taking all his academic success as a personal attack on me. It was so easy for me to take his compliments as criticism when that was all I gave to myself. And our dynamic is way more fun now knowing it’s coming from a place of support and friendly competition rather than rivalry. Last I heard, we’re tied for a chance at valedictorian next year. But even if Mac got it and I didn’t, I think I’d still feel like I won.
Mac peeks up from his book as if he can sense my eyes on him. He smiles at me, and the desire to reach out and touch him is too much to resist. I open my hand, leaning forward a little. His warm hand envelops mine, and he gives my fingers a squeeze.
“Whatcha thinking about?” he asks.
“How ridiculous I was for so long about seeing you as my competition.”
He squeezes my hand again. We’ve talked about this as much as a couple can talk about anything. It’s always accompanied by an apology from me for my atrocious behavior.
“I’m still your competition,” he says, raising his eyebrows again.
“Barely,” I scoff.
“I’m sorry, who got the better grade on our sociology exam last week?”
“One of those questions was a trick question and it wasn’t fair at all,” I say, pointing a finger at him.
He smirks, and all my insides turn to mush. The way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m living in a goddamn Taylor Swift song.
“Hey,” he says, glancing sideways and then back to me. “Come here.” He lowers his voice into a soft whisper. He pulls on my hand, and I get out of my seat and walk over to him, checking to see if Daisy is still at her desk. She’s not, so I sit on his lap.
He coils an arm around me, and I lean into him as he holds me up. I wrap my arms around his neck and he rests his free hand on my upper thigh. It sends warmth through my whole leg.
“I was thinking…” he starts.
“Dangerous.”
“Move in with me next semester. For our senior year.”
My stomach climbs up to my throat. “Really?”
“Really. What’s the point of having two apartments? You’ll be at mine or I’ll be at yours all the time anyway.”
I glare at him, skeptical. “This isn’t your way of, say, paying for my housing, is it? Trying to ‘take care of me’ financially?”
“Absolutely not. But financially speaking the logic is there.”
I chew on the inside of my lip. Jade has offered multiple times to pay for an apartment for both of us, but I’ve always refused. I would refuse Mac outright too if I didn’t think he was right. I’ve practically been living at his apartment this past semester. Jade complains all the time that she never sees me anymore. Mac has slept more than a few nights on my twin bed with me because I’ve felt bad leaving Jade.
I’d feel bad leaving Jade next year for Mac. We’ve lived together for three years; I don’t want to abandon her now.
“Not your strongest argument, but not your weakest. What about Jade?”
“We’ll get a two-bedroom apartment.”
