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I trace another curl with my thumb. She shifts against me, and her hand slips a little to the side.
“Did you know in the eighteen hundreds, people would use the same soap to wash their hair as they’d use to clean their teeth and their toilet?”
I let out a lazy chuckle. “No shit?”
“Yup. And in Japan, robots can shampoo your hair. It scans your head and determines how much pressure to use, then cleans your hair with eight robot fingers.”
“Huh.”
“True fact. Also, astronauts wash their hair with a no-rinse shampoo.”
“With marshmallows stuffed up their noses.”
Annnnd… my thoughts are now safely out of the gutter.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Caroline
Sebastianisfastasleep.
We were talking and watching YouTube videos and then I looked over, and his eyes were closed. He opened them about two seconds later, but just barely. Then he gave me this tired, lopsided smile that sort of made my insides melt.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Almost fell asleep.”
I told him it was fine, but he still fought the exhaustion for the next few minutes, then halfway through a video about an eagle snatching a baby from a field and returning it, he lost the battle and I watched as his eyelids fluttered closed. And now he’s totally out for the count, his dark lashes fanned against his lower lids, full lips parted and wavy hair all messy around his face and against the overstuffed velvet pillow beneath his head. It’s weird seeing Sebastian Murdoch so… still.
His right hand—his football-throwing, water-slide building, victory fist-bumping hand—is still resting against my head, from where he was playing with my curls earlier in a way that made me feel so completely aware of him. And of me. The two of us so close. Sort of… connected. In a way?
And I know the way we’ve been tonight—this is more than just a friendship between us. And it’s not just me. It’s him, too. He’s been holding my hand all night. Touching my back… my side. Pulling me against his body anytime he thought I might be feeling uncomfortable or nervous or awkward.
And I’m aware this must be really different for him. I mean, compared to all the other times he’s snuck off to a bedroom with a girl at one of these parties. We didn’t even kiss or anything. We were hardly even cuddling. So for him, this tangling of fingers, and resting of hands, and stroking of hair, probably barely registers.
But for me, it’s huge. Right now, it feels likeeverything.My brain is so over-brimming with thoughts and questions, and my emotions swirling and billowing like New Year’s Eve confetti in my chest, making it hard to breathe or focus on just one thing through the chaos.
Because I think I like Sebastian Murdoch. And I think maybe he likes me, too.
I eventually calm all the thoughts spinning around in my head. Or at least, I force myself to just… relax. Not over-analyze everything that happened tonight.
I find a coffee-table book on French Baroque interior design on one of the bedside tables, so I skim through that for a while as Sebastian sleeps beside me. His hand slipped onto the pillow when I reached over to grab the book, and it’s still like that now, forearm bent above his head, palm up. And I can’t help noticing how good his arm looks like that. His muscles, I mean. The way they sort of dip and swell below the sleeve of his T-shirt.
His other hand is just resting against the thigh of his slightly bent leg. Honestly, he is totally sprawled out on the bed, and I’m kind of squished toward the edge. But I don’t move him. I’m sure he’s exhausted after how hard he played tonight. Also, I’m totally content right now, quietly reading while Sebastian sleeps peacefully beside me.
I know I can’t stay here forever, though. And I eventually text Maggie, who says she’s ready to leave soon, and we arrange to meet by the golden egg fountain in twenty minutes.
Just as I’m texting my last response, the door swings open, and Xavier Rockwell is standing there, with a girl hovering somewhere just behind him. All I see of her are the tips of her pastel green painted nails curled around his abs from behind.
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Xavier says, freezing in the doorway when he sees me. He starts to close the door again, but then his eyes land on Seb and stay there for a second. He cranes his neck to see across the bed. “Is that Seb?”
I glance at Sebastian’s prone body beside me. “Oh, um, yeah… He fell asleep.”
Xavier takes another step into the room, eyes still on his friend. “He okay?”
His eyes meet mine now, and I let the Baroque design book fall closed.
“Yeah… I think he’s just tired.”
Xavier nods. Looks at Sebastian again. Then back at me, sort of studying me.
