With a loud clap of his hands, Coach dismisses everyone, and they scramble to grab their things and leave, having better things to do.
“Come on, my shamrock baby,” Julian says, linking his arm with mine and pulling me out the door. All our things are loaded in his bag, and I shake my head but don’t fight this time.
It’s still a stupid nickname, but it beats the hell out of snookums.
I only make it a few steps before I nearly trip over myself, and Julian releases me with a chuckle to walk beside him. I miss his touch the moment it's gone and reach for his hand. He laces his fingers with mine without hesitation, and I get that weird weightless feeling in my stomach that only he can make me feel.
It’s later now, and while there are still some students milling around, the halls are much emptier than they were when we came down here. I take a moment to breathe, enjoying the quiet calm that I feel has been missing since that tiny girl showed up at our door.
“Where are we going?” I ask when we walk right past the stairs we need to get up to the dorm. It’s not unlike Julian to space out, so I need to check whether there’s a reason we’re going this way.
“I ordered something, and it got delivered earlier.”
He looks back over his shoulder at me as he drags me behind him suddenly, in a hurry. The smile on his face is genuine and happy, none of his usual mischief.
He’s fucking perfect, and somehow he’s mine; he chose me.
We make it to the mailroom, and he quickly pulls out a box no bigger than a basketball. He’s damn near vibrating in place as he rips into it like a kid on Christmas morning.
A camera…
“Since when do you care about photography?” I ask, confused as to when that happened. It’s not crazy; he’s gone all in on a random hobby before, but this one seems kind of out of the blue.
He looks at the box a little more before he nods and turns to face me, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.
Wren.
He doesn’t need to tell me; I know that’s what it is.
What is it about her that has him so all in? I’ve never seen him like this with anyone, not a girl, not even me.
Old fears creep in, but I shake them away. He chose me, and even if he likes her too, that doesn’t make what we have less…Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll be able to make myself believe it.
“Tell me this isn’t for her?” I ask, nearly beg, but I know it is even without his answer.
Snatching the box from him, I turn it over in my hands a few times before I pull out my phone and quickly type in the name.
“Seven hundred dollars?” I shout, unable to keep my shock to myself.
He has the decency to look embarrassed, but money isn’t a big deal to him the way it is to me. I grew up well off, but when I hit sixteen, that money became my father's, and I had to work for everything I have.
Julian’s parents are happily married and smart, and he’s their only child. He gets a $5,000 monthly allowance that he usually goes through pretty easily.
It’s not like he needs all that or is hurting, but seven hundred dollars on a girl he just met feels crazy, well, crazier than his usual behavior at least.
“Yeah, so when I was showing her around yesterday, she was really into the Wisteria tree. You should have seen the way she lit up. I asked her about it, and she said she zoned out thinking about shooting some of it. I offered for us to swing back and grab her camera, but she shut down. The look on her face made my chest hurt, Tee.” He grabs at his shirt, pinching his eyes closed, and I hate that I feel bad for her because of him.
But I wasn’t joking when I said I would do anything for him.
I click through a few of the reviews.
“At least it's a good one, I suppose,” I tell him, handing the box back to him and breathing a sigh of relief when that pained look melts off his face.
“Do you think she’ll like it?” His eyes are pleading, and his lip has the slightest pout as he moves closer, and I shake my head.
“I think she’s going to love it,” I tell him, closing the distance between us and pressing my lips to his. “She better.”
He laughs, and I wrap a hand around his waist, pulling him in closer, craving more.
