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The last time we had the opportunity to be something more, we both said we should focus on school. But I can’t stop thinking about him. About what he’s doing. How he’s feeling. If he misses me. If he wants to kiss me again like I want to kiss him. It’s like he’s worming his way into my heart. He’s become a part of my daily life. I don’t know what convincing excuse I’ll give to my friends for taking off after Max, but right now, all that matters is what he’s going to say next.
Finally, Max leans his head on my shoulder. “I want you, if you’ll have me.”
If I’ll have him?
Ugh, this boy has no idea my whole heart is his already, does he?
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him tight. “Then let’s be a thing, Max.”
CHAPTER 25
MAX
Afew days later, Tinker Bell and I are on a study date. A date where we’re actually supposed to work on our project for Intro to Entrepreneurship. The problem is that I keep staring at her like a buffoon who struggles to keep himself from salivating.
We’re at the Thundercloud, the aptly named café on campus. It’s as busy as the library during the week before Thanksgiving, with finals around the corner. But the café has three advantages. First, the drinks. Obviously. Second, we can be as loud as we want. Which means we can hide our words under the loud chatter around us. And third, seating is a smidge more comfortable for a big guy like me.
Although my knees are up to my ears with how low this couch is, my ass sure is happy with the plush seating. Much better than the hard chairs of the library. And, in theory, better for cozying up to my project partner.
Except that since we arrived, she’s been trying to put as much distance between us as possible. Almost as if she regrets having left hickeys on my neck.
The second the barista called our names, Tinker Bell jumped to go get them before I could even think of reacting. Her reward is that she now has to walk very carefully to not spill my tiny espresso, while in her other hand she carries her ginormous pumpkin spice latte.
Funny how she’s basically wearing the same oversized St. Cloud hoodie as me—hers the navy version and mine the gray—but it looks amazing on her. Her long brown hair is loose over her shoulders, not in the tight braid she usually keeps it in for training or games. My eyes drift lower, to the leggings that don’t hide her powerful thighs and calves.
I can’t be faulted for staring. Fortunately, she’s so intent on not spilling a drop of the drinks that she doesn’t notice me.
“This is a fresh reminder that you’re such an Italian guy.”
“Huh?” I blink up at her as she carefully, slowly, sets the two cups on the coffee table.
Tinker Bell puts her hands on her hips, shrinking the span of her hoodie drastically. “Really? One espresso shot?”
“It’s enough. And I’m not thirsty.” Not for coffee, at least. “But that’s because, in comparison, your drink looks like a whole vat of coffee.”
“As it should.”
The couch isn’t big, but she still manages to squeeze herself so far into the corner she practically becomes one with the armrest. I cock an eyebrow at her.
“Tinker Bell, what are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” She reaches forward for her drink, but all she does with it is smell it. And not look at me.
“I’m this close to smelling my armpits in public to see if that’s why you’re avoiding me.”
“Oh, trust me. You don’t smell bad.”
That makes me oddly proud of the basic skill of showering.
“Okay, so what’s the deal?” I follow her example and grab my cup of espresso. It’s not as high quality as the one we serve at Romano’s, but it’ll do.
Suddenly, Tinker Bell starts laughing. She pauses once to blink at me, then carries on with the full belly laughter. Even though I suspect it’s at my expense, just seeing the joy on her face quirks my lips. The lower one stings a little at the stretch, but it’s worth it.
“What now, woman?”
She wipes the corner of her eye. “I can’t believe you grab your cup like that.”
I look down. “Like what?”
