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She shakes her head and shrugs.
“I don’t fucking care.” Her words don’t match the quick dart of her tongue along her lips, though.
“All right, then.” I let go of the door trim and hook my thumbs in the waistband of my joggers.
I pause for a second and tick my head a fraction to feel her out. She blinks slowly then reopens her laptop, lifting her knees to prop the screen high enough to block her view. Nothing stopping me now, so I pull my pants off and toss them onto the bed—purposely aiming for the very center.
Laney closes her screen halfway and peers over the edge at my pants, then over to me. Her discipline not to look away from my face is impressive, and probably a good thing because this whole charade has my cock hard. Boxer briefs leave little to the imagination.
She kicks her blanket off one leg then digs her bare foot under my joggers to give them a swift flick off the mattress and onto the floor. Again, on my side.
“I’m gonna go ahead and shower,” I say, an attempt to draw her attention to me one last time. She doesn’t look my way again, though, instead opening her screen back up and settling into a pretty swift round of typing.
Huh.
I linger for a few seconds, taking a good look at her toned legs and the white cotton shorts that barely hug her ass. She’s wearing an oversized Tiff football sweatshirt, which makes me wonder if she’s dating someone on the team. She supposedly moved out from a place she shared with her ex-boyfriend, but that’s all I could get out of her last night before she refused to speak anymore and Ikindlyoffered to sleep on the couch.
It takes a few minutes for the shower water to heat up, so while I wait I set up the small speaker I keep on the sink, syncing it to my workout playlist. It’s mostly rap and a few hard metalsongs, which I’m sure Laney hates, so I go ahead and amp the volume up a few extra notches before getting in the shower.
I’m mid-shampoo when I hear the fisted knock on the door.
“Turn that down!” Her voice carries over the sound of the water, but I pretend I can’t hear her.
“Sorry, in the shower! What?” I grin as my fingers work the soap into a lather on my scalp.
The bathroom door pops open.
“I’m writing a paper, you asshole.” Her voice is crystal clear now.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m showering but I’ll take care of it when I’m done. Might have a soak, though.”
I chuckle silently to myself. From behind the screen of the shower curtain, I tilt my head back. The water rushes along my forehead and clogs my ears as I rinse away the shampoo. My eyes are closed from the suds, and when I wipe away the remnants with my thumb and index finger to open my eyes again, I find Laney has pulled the curtain open and is staring at my face.
“What the fu?—”
She holds my speaker between us and flicks open the back panel with her thumbnail. Tilting the device, she spills two batteries into her palm before pushing the panel back in place and tossing my now useless speaker onto the bathroom counter. She holds the batteries up once her back is to me.
“I’m keeping these.” She pulls the door shut behind her with enough force it sends a rush of cold air through the open shower curtain.
Craziest part? I’m still hard as a rock.
5/
laney
Killingthe speaker distraction was easy. Unfortunately, I can’t yank the batteries out of Cutter. And now that he’s showered—still shirtless and wearing these low-slung gray sweatpants as his massive body takes up the entire half of the bed I allotted him—I’m distracted.
The entire bed wiggles every time he adjusts the crossing of his legs or fidgets with his pillow under his neck, switching hands to rest behind his head while he holds his phone up with the other. I have about five hundred words left in this essay, and in the thirty minutes Cutter’s been lying next to me, I’ve written the same four over and over again.
THIS IS NOT WORKING. THIS IS NOT WORKING. THIS IS NOT WORKING!
He finally flops on his side, propping his head on his elbow. He tugs on my blanket. I jerk it away from him and give him a glare. All that does is make him grin, and shit . . . now he’s showing teeth. I bet he had braces. Those teeth are perfect. Bright white. And there’s the dimple.
“I’m trying to finish a paper. Can you not act like an annoying little brotherplease?” I shake my head and retrain my focus on my computer screen. It’s all pretend, though, since all I’m doingis waiting to see him move in my periphery. How does he smell so good? Seriously, his scent is like a calming spa treatment, or it would be if I could calm my ass down. Instead, I’m stressed to the max about getting this paper done so I can get some sleep.
Shit. How am I going to sleep in here tonight?
“I didn’t mean to annoy you like a little brother. I was going to ask to use the edge of your blanket to prop my phone up so I can read.”
