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I sigh and look up at Paul who’s watching me with an expression on his face I can’t quite read.
“What?”
He looks at my phone, then back up to me. “Your new bestie need something?”
I scoff. “She’s not my bestie, and I think she just needs a friend.” I shrug and put my phone down to focus on my homework again.
I’m staring at my textbook but not actually absorbing any of it. There’s too much going on in my head. My eyes are unfocused as I brush my finger over the raised scab on my neck. It’s possessive and comforting to have a permanent mark on me from him. Even if he was hesitant to do it, I needed it. I still do.
“Stop messing with it,” Paul mutters, and my eyes snap back into focus as I turn my head to look at him.
The desire to ask him what this all means is so damn strong it’s almost suffocating, but I can’t. The words are stuck in my throat, and I can’t keep my head on anything else.
I close my book harder than I mean to and drop it onto my desk on top of the other shit that’s stacked there and climb into bed. I can feel Paul’s gaze on me, but I don’t say anything. With my back to him, I cover myself and force my eyes closed.
The voices in my head tell me I’m an idiot, that getting that tattoo is a surefire way to put distance between us, that he’s only messing around with me, and I’m not his long term.
Paul moves around the room, turns off the light, then stops somewhere near the beds.
“Are you hiding under the blanket so you can scratch the tattoo?” His question almost makes me laugh. It's definitely something I would do.
“No.” My voice is a croak, and my bed dips as Paul climbs in behind me. He slides up to spoon me, wrapping his arm around my waist over the blanket.
“What’s going on in that head?” He doesn’t sound judgmental, only curious.
“Do you hate the tattoo?”
His answer is immediate. “No.”
“What do you want me to tell the team when they ask?” We both know they will ask.
“Whatever you want.” I can feel Paul shrug behind me, so I turn to face him.
“You don’t care if I tell them it's you?” I lift an eyebrow at him.
“No, I don’t care.” He shakes his head and lifts my chin to turn my head. Paul leans in and softly kisses the tender spot on my neck, making me shiver.
“You’re my person, remember?” His lips against my ear have goose bumps breaking out along my skin.
“Are we together? In an exclusive relationship, or are you just figuring your shit out?” I hate how small my voice is, how needy I am for assurance.
Paul rests his head on my pillow, watching me. “An exclusive relationship?” He smirks at me. “Is that a fancy way of saying boyfriends?”
I can’t help the little smile that turns up the corners of my lips. “Maybe.”
Paul chuckles quietly. “I would be okay with that, but I’m not ready for everyone to know yet.”
Hope blossoms in my chest, lighting me up inside. “Okay, I get that.” I lean forward and kiss him quickly. “But you’re mine, right?”
He smiles into the kiss. “Right.”
Scooting over, I pull Paul farther onto the bed, then push him onto his back so I can lay on him. It takes some moving around to get him under the blanket, and I realize he still has his jeans on.
“You cannot sleep in jeans.” I scrunch up my face in disgust.
He rolls his eyes and reaches for the button.
“It’s pretty sexy seeing you get naked in my bed, though,” I tell him as he shimmies out of his pants.
