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My heart thunders in my chest, and fear tickles my stomach. Does he not remember? He wasn’t that drunk, was he?
Do I tell him and make it worse if he did forget? Is he pretending like he doesn’t know? What the fuck do I do? I want him. Full stop. But I will take any part of him he’s willing to give me. If that means I’m relegated to just cuddles, so be it. I’m not sure how a future love interest will like that, but that is a bridge we will have to cross when we get to it. Will he stop cuddling with me when he finds a partner? I don’t think I’ll survive.
Brendon finally looks at me, and in the blink of an eye, he’s set his food down and is wrapping his arms around me.
“Hey.” He takes my food and moves it aside to straddle my lap and wrap himself around me. I shove my face in his neck and wrap my arms around his back. “What did I miss?”
The weight on my chest eases, and I suck in a deep breath. My lungs fill with the scent of Brendon: Tide laundry soap, team shower body wash, and the smoky pine of his deodorant.
“We kissed last night. Do you remember?” I say into his shirt.
Brendon relaxes a bit, and he chuckles. “Oh. That. It’s fine, dude. No big deal, really.” Leaning back, I look up at him, and God I want to kiss him right now to show him just how big of a deal it really is.
Brendon’s smile falls, and he looks at me much more seriously now. “Wait, have you kissed a dude before?”
I force myself to swallow and focus. “Uh yeah, I did last year.”
Brendon smirks, lifting an eyebrow. “Look at you, getting a little slutty. I’m so proud of you.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the blush from heating my cheeks. “Shut up.”
“Did you get laid? Handies? Blowies? Come on, gimmie the deets, my dude!” Brendon shakes me, and I laugh at him.
“What? No.” I push on his hips, but he wraps around me tighter. “I’m not telling you shit.”
“Just whisper it in my ear. It’ll be our little secret.” He turns his head so I can do just that, and something about the movement has me wanting to nip at his neck, suck on his skin, and whisper dirty words for him. I wonder if he likes dirty talking . . .
“You’re a menace,” I whisper in his ear, and he shivers on my lap.
“Okay, fine. We can reenact what happened. You twisted my arm, but I accept.” He wags his eyebrows with a stupid smile on his lips.
“Real funny.” I dig my fingers into his ribs, and he screams, jerking away from me and falling onto the floor with a loud thud.
He lays on the floor for a minute, looking up at me, and flips me off.
“I hate being tickled.”
I smirk at him and pick up my now cold eggs. “I know.”
Brendon grabs his oatmeal and sits next to me on my bed.
“There’s a Bears game on soon. Wanna watch it?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, just turns on the Xbox and TV and flips to Hulu, then settles on the channel it’ll be on in a few minutes.
We finish our breakfast, and he watches the game while I get caught up on homework. At one point, Brendon stands on the bed and cheers, arms raised in the air and yelling like his ass is on fire.
“Did you see that pass? It was fucking beautiful!” he shouts at me, pointing at the TV while standing above me. I smile at him and shake my head, turning back to my book. A pillow smacks me, making my pen draw a line across my paper.
“Hey!” I toss my stuff aside, grab the pillow and stand up, swinging it at him like a bat.
It hits him in the stomach, and he launches himself at me, knocking me back into his bed, then to the floor.
“You think you can take on the pillow fight champion?” I holler at him, cackling with laughter when I get my fingers in his armpit, and he shrieks.
“Who the fuck gave you that title? Your grandma? She was probably being nice!” he yells back, red faced and smiling. He comes for me again, grabbing my T-shirt in his hands and rolling us, but he must have forgotten how small our space is, and we end up with me straddling him, trapping him against the leg of my bed with my hands on the carpet next to his head.
We’re both breathing hard, smiling and sweating from roughhousing, when the air around us shifts. I am very aware of him below me, my ass pressed against his hips, and his hands still holding my shirt so I can’t move away. My skin heats, and it has nothing to do with the physical exertion, but the arousal humming through me. I rock my hips back, just a little, more on instinct than anything else.
Brendon’s breathing hitches, and his hands grip my hips. Leaning on his chest, I rock against him again, and he thrusts up against me. Anticipation and rightness blossom in my chest. This is what I’ve been missing. The connection and intimacy and acceptance that I’ve never had with anyone before, that I’ve craved my entire life.
