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“Is his mom—”
“She’s hardly ever here. It’s kind of a weird situation.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah… Where is Xave, anyway? Did you see him when we came in?” I glance around the room, searching for my best buddy. I spot him toward the other end of the room. He’s got his brother on his shoulders and looks like he’s having a heated argument with Maggie. Finn is playing with Xave’s hair, twisting the longer strands into little pony tails all over his head. He’s sort of a fixture at these parties, and usually just ends up crashing on one of the couches sometime after midnight. Which, now that I think about it, is probably not the best situation for a little kid his age.
“You want to go say hi?” Caroline asks, when she sees where I’m looking.
“Nah, it’s fine.” No way I’m getting in the middle of whatever he and Maggie are beefing about.
Honestly, I didn’t even think they knew each other that well. I mean, not enough to have the kind of heated conversation they’re into right now. She doesn’t even go to our school.
I chug the rest of my Coke and slide the empty can onto the bar. “Let’s go find somewhere quiet.”
Caroline gives me a funny look. “That sounded like a line.”
It kind of did. I chuckle. “I swear it wasn’t.”
“Um… okay.”
I take her hand again, and it takes us another half hour to make our way through the crowd and into another hallway to one of the back staircases. I lead us into a guest bedroom and Caroline’s eyebrows practically reach her forehead when she takes in the blue, white, and gold decor, complete with ornate four-poster bed on a raised platform. And velour… everything. Bedding, bedhead, canopy, curtains… you name it. And a gold and glass beaded chandelier the size of a small garden shed.
She takes everything in, and then her eyes stray back to the bed. I feel her body tense beside me.
“Oh, um, I don’t… I mean, I… I’m not going to have s—”
“Caroline, I know.” I stop her before she makes this awkward. “I swear, I just want to hang out with you, okay? Somewhere that’s less crazy.”
This time, she smiles. “Whoa. Sebastian Murdoch saying he wants to hang out somewherelesscrazy? Did you hit your head during the game?”
Huh. I shake my head at her. “You’re fucking hilarious.”
Also, not totally off the mark.
We end up sitting on the bed, talking and watching YouTube videos. At first, she keeps asking if I want to go back to the party, like she doesn’t believe I’m happy right now just hanging out alone with her. But, after a while, she relaxes, and soon we’re both stretched out, our bodies pressed close together. And I keep thinking of Graham’s words—about being a gentleman. And it sort of helps keep my mind from straying to places it shouldn’t. And my hands. And other body parts.
Also, thinking about your dad when you’re lying on a bed next to a cute girl is a hell of an effective way to kill the mood.
Still, Caroline somehow ends up with her head leaned against my shoulder as we get lost deeper down the YouTube wormhole. And I’m not gonna lie, I’ve fooled around with a lot of girls, but I’ve never been as full-body-aware of such a small, relatively innocent gesture. A head. Against my chest. Messy blond curls spilling across my T-shirt, tickling my bare arm. Lips brushing against my pecs every time she makes a comment about the video we’re watching. And fuck me, why am I so turned on right now? I’m tired as hell. And it’s not like she’s even doing anything flirtatious or sexual.
I duck my head a little and press my cheek against the top of her head. “Mmmm.”
She glances up at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I mumble. “Just… you smell good.”
“I do?”
“Yeah.” I bring a hand up to play with one of her curls, winding it` around my finger, then letting it bounce back. Her hair’s way softer than I thought it would be.
Caroline lifts her own hand now and rests it against my stomach. And God… It’s the best thing ever. Also, the worst. Because it’s gonna be pretty obvious soon just how much her closeness is affecting me right now.
I try to focus on my fingers in her hair instead of her palm against my stomach. But it’s not easy when I know her pinky finger is just… maybe two inches from the waistband of my jeans.
And now I feel like a dick, because I’m sure that hasn’t even occurred to her.
Just keep focusing on her hair, asshole.
