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I try not to let my disappointment show as he flops onto the beige sectional, long limbs spread in all directions like a starfish. His hair is buzzed again— he said he hates how it looks long.
He could be bald and I'd still find him stunning.
There’s a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes.
“Guess what?”
My brows knit. “What?” I ask, dropping my bag on the opposite side of the couch. Probably best to give him space.
His lips split into a devious smirk.
God, the sight of it stirs something molten awake in my groin.
“Why are you smiling like that?”
He wiggles his fingers.
“We have the whole place to ourselves tonight!”
I stand there for what feels like hours gaping at him. His smile falters at my silence until a disbelieving laugh leaves me.
“No shit?”
“No shit,” he snickers and grabs a bottle off the end table. “We can’t have a ton or my dad will notice, but you want one?”
Dad let me try beer once; it was kind of gross, but if Remy's drinking it, I'm drinking it.
“Sure.”
He passes me one.
Our fingers brush.
The tiniest touch is a match tossed into a dry forest, inciting a wildfire. I retreat to my end of the couch and take a long swig, hoping to drown the inferno raging within. It's not as disgusting as I remember. Excitement wars with insecurities until I’m squirming as Remy starts an episode of a ghost-hunting show.
“Let’s play a game,” he says. I cock a brow. He continues, “We drink every time someone asks, ‘What was that?’”
I snort but agree.
After the first episode, I’m buzzed.
On the second, I’m opening another beer.
By the third, I’m feeling fuckinggreat.
I don’t remember when Remy migrated to my side of the couch, but I’m not complaining. He’s pointing at the screen, giggling at everything, eyes glassy with intoxication.
“They really thought they saw a fucking ghost,” he wheezes, tipping his beer back for a sip. He pauses as it meets his lips, features adorably scrunched.
“Aw, fuck, I’m out.”
I pluck it from his grip and set it on the end table—
Fingers wrap around my wrist.
His hand slides to cover the back of mine.Holy fucking fuck. Can he feel my pulse? How hard it's pounding?
