Or have been for a while now.
Not sure about that anymore, though.
“Yeah, not my type. Just got distracted, is all.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, and then we step up to the coffee cart, and he orders for the two of us. And while he does it, if my eyes wander to the large window and settle on Caleb once more, it’s nothing more than curiosity.
I make it back to the apartment that afternoon, my stomach upset. Not from the coffee and the wrap I ate, but from knowing that Caleb is going to be in the apartment and he’s going to want to talk to me.
He tends to do that. Tries to draw me into conversation. Ones thatI don’t want to be a part of. Ones that make my skin a little too tight and my cheeks a little too hot.
I push the door open slowly, peering inside. I can smell him in here. Soap and pine, manly.
“Hey, Whit. Where you been, man?” Caleb asks, suddenly in my line of sight as I shut the door behind me. He’s not wearing a shirt again, and it’s making prickles of awareness spread down my spine.
“Class.”
“Nice,” he says as I step around him, holding my breath.
Why is he so large? Why did I take one look at him, slide that contract across the table, and ask him to sign it?
I’m having regrets. Huge mistake on my end.
“You ever do anything else besides go to classes and read?”
He asks this all while staring at me. Iwasreaching for my Kindle, for protection mainly, but I curl my fingers into my palm and ignore it. At least for a few minutes. I can try to be normal and speak to him.
“I like a lot of things,” I say, and he cocks his head at me with curiosity, scratching his chest while he does it. I turn my gaze and walk into the kitchen, filling a cup of water and staring at the wall.
He moves toward me, and I force my eyes to look at him once more.
“What kinds of things?” he says, and I sigh.
“Documentaries. Mainly about history and space. I also like going to museums when time permits.”
“Cool. I like documentaries, too. Museums not so much.” His hand slides over to his pierced nipple, and he flicks at the bar through it.
Sensation zips through my groin.
“Actually, never been to a museum. Probably boring though, you know?”
I don’t know. I think museums are exciting and fascinating. I don’t say that, though. I don’t want to invite more conversation. Because that will lead to…things I don’t even want to think about.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, seeing an email I don’t want to deal with.
To be honest, I don’t have the time or privacy right now. Not whenCaleb is still encroaching on my space. He’s currently leaning over the small partition in the kitchen, ass out, eyes up.
Like he’s waiting to be fucked.
I cannot think about that. I will not.
I clear my throat and then finish my cup of water, setting it in the sink. I’m loath to leave it there, but I’ll have to just wash it another time.
“You gonna ask me what I do in my free time?”
“I’m sure I can guess,” I reply, my voice a rasp.
“Yeah?” He stands up and grins at me, the smile lighting up his entire face. “What do you think I enjoy doing?”
