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“Don’t wait for opportunity. Create it.” He stares at it for a few long seconds and turns to face me, nodding. “That’s actuallynotwhat I wanted to show you, but now I feel like anything else will pale in comparison. That prose. The message.”
He forms a fist and taps the center of his chest with it while closing his eyes and feigning being moved.
“Maybe I’ll swipe it for you, give it to you on your birthday,” I joke.
His smile lingers, as does his gaze.
“I’d like that.”
Warmth coats my insides again, and I immediately go to work deciding how I’m going to get that poster off that fucking wall without him noticing.
“Seriously, though. Let me show you,” he says, slowly closing the gap between us.
My legs are crossed, my thigh muscles vibrating with the urge to unfurl and part, inviting him to step between my knees. The almost-touch is my favorite feeling. His eyes hold mine hostage, and I wonder if he’s wishing for me to part them, too. He stops less than an inch away from my leg and bends to his side, pulling out a metal drawer that seems to be hiding more than just a few expensive-looking pens. A box of condoms sits next to a silver flask with the name ABE engraved across the center. Before I can react to that, he continues to slide the drawer open, revealing a small bag of extremely aged pot and a nudie magazine.
“Oh, my God!” I laugh out, cupping my mouth and hiding my wide-open lips.
James pulls the flask out and flips the cap, taking a swig. My eyes bulge out and my head turns to check over my shoulder and see who is watching this.
“That could be rancid!” I whisper-shout when my gaze lands on his again.
His shoulders shake with his quiet laugh and his lips pucker to hold in his smirk.
“You already knew it wasn’t, didn’t you?” I purse my lips and lower my eyelids.
James shrugs and takes another hit from the flask before passing it to me. I sniff a few inches from the cap, noticing it’s basically odorless.
“Vodka?” I quirk a brow.
“Maybe?” James shakes his head slightly.
“Maybe. That’s your comforting response. That what you want to drink out of a God-knows-how-long-it-has-been-in-here flask is possibly vodka.” I squint and study him, but he doesn’t budge.
“Pretty much,” he says.
I stare at him for a few quiet seconds before he reaches to take the flask back and let me off the hook. But before he can take it from my hands, I bring it to my mouth and tilt, letting the scorching liquid coat my tongue. I cough and instantly shove the flask back at him before running my sleeve over my lips, probably smearing my lip color, assuming there is anything left after running it under what tasted like turpentine.
“Right?” He chuckles.
“That is moonshine, James. That is notmaybevodka. That’s some straight-up home-brewed shit.” I cough again, the kind of hack a cat makes to rid themselves of a furball. I can’t help it.
James takes another swig then offers it to me again. I touch my fingertips to the metal side and push it away.
“No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself,” he says, his mouth curved with amusement. “If you prefer the finest selection of whiskey I swiped from the alumni stash, ask Theo.”
“Ah, so you’re the source for that stuff,” I say.
James shrugs.
“Maybe.”
He recaps the flask and tucks it back into its space in the drawer. Before he can close it, I reach in and swipe the nudie magazine and lay it flat on my lap.
“Let’s see what’s doing with these ladies, shall we?” I lift a brow as I glance up at him.
“Sure,” he agrees, sliding the door closed with the side of his leg and resting half of his weight on the desktop next to me. I’m tucked next to his side, his palm on the desk behind me and his bicep skimming my back. I’m tempted to lean into him, but instead, I flip through the first few pages ofHOT LADIES.
