Page 51 of Make Me Mean It

“I’m straight, Knox,” I snap.

“Yeah?” Theo’s brow lifts, his eyes falling pointedly between us. “Then why are you shaking?”

It’s barely there, a faint shake running through my fingers. Not enough that anyone should notice. Not enough that he should notice.

I shove both hands into my pockets and glare at him, clinging to the anger because at least I know what to do with that.

“You’re such an asshole.”

I turn away before he can point out anything else my body is determined to tell him without my permission.

“For fuck’s-”

Theo yanks me backwards, and I turn ready to unload every bit of frustration still crawling beneath my skin when a bundle of fabric smacks into my chest.

I catch it on reflex.

“Your shirt,” Theo says, rolling his eyes.

I stare down at the familiar t-shirt crumpled between my hands. In my rush to get out without waking him, I’d apparently left half my clothes behind.

“Figured I’d save you from broadcasting your shitty taste to the whole campus,” Theo adds, and when I look up, he winks.

A couple of people pass behind Theo, and when one of them glances our way, my fingers fist in the shirt.

Standing here probably isn’t helping. Not with Theo looking like he woke up five minutes ago, me wearing his hoodie and my forgotten clothes currently bunched between my hands after he chased me halfway across campus to return them.

“It’s just a hoodie,” I mutter again, quieter this time. “I was in a rush.”

“Sure.”

My jaw clenches at the disbelief packed into one word, but Theo turns away before I can defend myself again, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette and tapping it absently against his thumb before slipping it between his lips.