The moment we walk into his room, I hear Elvis’s “Suspicious Minds” playing from somewhere. I make a quick scan of his tidy room—no radio, but there is a computer half propped open, so I assume that’s where the music is coming from.
I love Elvis, like most people, but I don’t mention it.
I’m here to see a romance novel, and I’m not about to let him get distracted.
“Your room is clean,” I say instead. Why? I have no clue. Maybe because the guys I’ve hung out with never have a room this clean. I mean, what is that, lemon and spruce? Is that even a combination? And why do I feel like this room was cleaned by a professional?
Jesus, Natalie, why are you obsessing over the room?
I cross and uncross my arms. Then I pretend I have an itch on my upper arm as he watches me.
“Are you nervous?” he asks, sitting back on his desk, adding space between us.
I’m not sure why I notice it, but his giving me space calms me.
“A little,” I admit.
He grabs the doorknob and opens the door completely. There’s a couple making out in the hallway; beyond them are people waiting in line for the bathroom. One girl looks up at me and smiles.
“No problem. Let me just grab my book and then we can get back to the crowd. It’s the only copy I have right now. Outside of my family, the boys, and now you, not many people know I write romance.”
“Oh, and here I thought you were telling all the girls to impress them.”
“Nope. You’re the first. I must have been waiting for the right girl to talk to me. Should we head back out there?” he asks, holding the book in his hand.
I look between him and the girl who is now taking her turn for the bathroom.
“It’s okay,” I tell him and then close the door a little. “It’s quieter in here, and you seem like a nice guy.”
“A nice guy,” he repeats, rubbing his chin as he crosses one ankle over the other. “Thanks, I guess.”
“You don’t like being called a nice guy?”
“I mean, if you consider the whole nice guys finish last thing, no, it’s not exactly a trait I’d like connected to my name.”
“Oh really,” I say as we find our way back to the flirty vibe we established before coming to his room. I sit on his bed and crisscross my legs. “Tell me what kind of traits you’d like connected to your name.”
He chuckles and hands me a book.
Sure enough, it has his name on it.
“Wow, you really wrote this?” I flip the pages and then look at the back cover. “One moment changed their entire lives.” I read the tag line at the top and then smile at him. “Okay,okay, I’m impressed.”
I don’t wait for his reply as I open to a random page and start reading quietly. I make it about three sentences before I snap the book closed.
“Tobias Banks! You write naughty books.” I laugh.
My gaze scans him from head to toe. He’s still standing away from the bed, but his attention is on me. I want to remember the smile on his lips forever.
A new song starts up, this one by the Black Pumas—he seems to have the same taste in music as I do—and I chuckle. “Okay, let me pick out new traits for you.”
“After fifteen minutes of knowing each other?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Okay, let’s hear it, but only if I get to pick yours too.”
“Oh, now who’s getting cocky?”
