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He scowls. “Well, that was rude.”
“I don’t show anyone my rough drawings.” I suck my teeth. “Actually, rude is you thinking you have zero rules in my room.”
“Pfft.” He glances at the door and asks, “Parents asleep?”
“Yes. Aren’t you leaving now?”
“Mind if I hang out a bit?” He slides off his sneakers and lies on my bed, getting comfortable.
“You can’t just…” I throw my hand up and look at the door. “If my parents—”
“Lock it,” Brandon deadpans. He arches a brow as if to dare me.
Why does my body react so dirtily to him?
I don’t want him to leave. Not when he’s been on my mind since I saw him in the hallway last Monday.
Oh, Lord, help me.
My legs carry me to the door, and I quietly lock it.
When I turn, Brandon’s intense gaze stops me in the spot. It’s then I remember I’m wearing pajama shorts, a tank top, and no bra.
As he travels over my body without shame, I instantly become warm. But to my dismay, I like it. The side of me that enjoys his attention overpowers the rest, and I’m not self-conscious about the fact that my nipples have pebbled and might be showing through the tank.
Geez. Something is wrong with me.
“Like anything else aside from art?” he asks, zapping me out of my head.
I free the tautness in my throat. “Um, I hang out with my best friend, Natalie. We’re meeting on Saturday.”
He squints at my face. “Not this Saturday. You’re spending the day with me.”
I rest my hands on my hips and lean my weight to one side. “You can’t tell me what to do, Brandon. I’m spending Saturday with Nat. We barely see each other.”
“Fine,” he accepts, his gaze trailing down to my thighs. The way he licks his lips indicates he likes my body. It pleases the naughty side of me, and I turn my head to hide a smile.
“Did you have a boyfriend at your old school?” he questions.
“Yes.” I look at him.
Displeasure masks his features as he steers his eyes back to mine. “When did you break up?”
“Sophomore year. It was only a few months.” I fold my arms. “What about you?” I’m curious if he’s attempted to have a relationship before.
Ignoring my question, Brandon motions beside him and shifts over, so there’s sufficient space. “You look sleepy. Lie down.”
“Are you offering me a spot on my bed?” I snort. “Gee, thanks.” Stepping closer, I lower beside him, careful not to touch.
I stare at the ceiling and avoid looking at Brandon. I wonder if he can hear my heart, pounding wildly.
“So, is Natalie into art, too?” he asks.
“Nope. She’s the more fun one. I miss her.” My voice falls an octave. “Crazy. I saw her this past Saturday, but something felt weird.”
Why do I share things so easily with him?
I sense Brandon’s focus on me. “If she’s pushing you away, then she’s not a good friend.”
