Page 22 of The Bleeding Hearts Club

I bet it’s not the only thing huge and veiny.

I snort at the same time he makes a strangled, choked sound.

“You—you alright there, Theo,” I slur.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m okay,” he stutters, clearing his throat. His other hand reaches behind his head and rubs down his neck.

I love when he calls me sweetheart. Shhh, don’t tell him I said that.

“Oh, really?” He looks down at me.

“Huh,” I mumble looking back.

Theo’s eyes are bright, almost glowing it seems in the darkly lit hall. He’s so fucking cute. Perfect. Amazing. Funny.

Jesus. It’s like someone made you for me.

He smiles wide, eyes raking down my body, landing back on my own.

“You like that I call you sweetheart, hmm.”

Shit. Did I say that out loud?

He chuckles and the sound is deep and rumbly.

I like that too.

“Yes, Mina. You said that out loud. And thank you. I didn’t know my laugh was something worthy of being liked,” Theo teases.

“Pretend that didn’t happen.”

“Uh, huh. Okay, sweetheart,” he purrs near my ear.

My heart skips a beat. I can feel the heat rising to my face, so I just grin and look away. He inhales deeply, and sighs.

“What’s wrong?” My question is met with silence for a few moments as he stares off into the distance. I don’t look up at him. I know my face is still bright fucking red, and he’d never miss the opportunity to pick on me for it.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” he replies in a strained voice.

“You know something, Theo?”

He hums in acknowledgment.

“I like you. And I don’t know why I like you. And apparently you like me, and I don’t know why about that either. Me and people don’t usually, ya know,” I mash my hands together in a weird gesture. He just laughs.

“Mingle? Get along?”

“Yeah. D. All of the above.”

We stopped outside of my room, just across the hall from his. Theo’s hand runs through his golden hair, making a few pieces stick up in odd places, and a strand to fall across his brow.

I just want to run my hands through it. I bet it’s as soft as the fucking bed in this expensive ass room.

“You want to know the truth, Mina.” He says it as a statement instead of a question.

“Yes,” I whisper. There’s only inches between our chests. I can smell coconut on his breath and the rich notes of his cologne mixed with sweat from dancing all night. It’s heady.

I lick my lips, and his eyes flit to my mouth before coming back to meet my gaze.