“I’m good,” she says, popping a peanut butter cup into her mouth. “But you two kids have fun.”
Yeah, right.
I narrow my eyes, searching her face for signs of duplicity. Could she be in on this with Parker? But no, she looks happy as a clam and totally oblivious to the tension roiling between us.
I grab some plates and a bottle of water for Parker, and we head upstairs.
My belly flips as I open my bedroom door and I do a quick scan to make sure there’s nothing embarrassing lying around.
The guy’s already handled your vibrator.
Right. It’s all uphill from there.
Still, having Parker in my room—in my personal space—is unsettling.
I watch as he sits the pizza box on my cluttered desk and scans the room, cataloguing every picture and memento tacked up on the wall. He pauses on the black and white Bleach anime tapestry, and the soft white lights surrounding it, before his eyes settle on the queen-size bed with its rumpled indigo comforter and stack of Sailor Moon pillows.
“Not what you were expecting?” I ask, hating the defensive edge in my voice.
I do not care what he thinks of my style or my bedroom.
It’s for me, no one else.
And, real talk, it’s not like I’ve had to worry about guys seeing it in the past.
He turns to face me, eyes raking over theBury Me Next To My TBRtee that’s knotted at my hip and continuing on to the turquoise shorts that barely cover my ass cheeks. “Shorty, this is exactly what I expected.”
My pulse flutters and I do my best to ignore the unwanted thoughts and feelings that always seem to bubble up in Parker’s presence. “I assume you brought your notes for the project?”
“Yeah. They’re in my bag.” He drops his backpack on the floor, then opens the pizza box and gestures for the plates. I hand them over and he dishes up two slices, which he offers to me. “Figured we could talk it over while we eat.”
“Sounds good.”
I settle back into my bed, leaving him the desk chair.
Once we’re both situated with our food, he passes me his notes. Some are handwritten, but most are printouts. He’s taken the time to highlight the important points, leaving no doubt which of us is more prepared for this meeting.
Way to pull your weight, Cruz.
I skim through the highlighted sections as I eat, noting we’ve identified a few of the same distribution challenges. It’s a promising start considering the fact that we can barely get through class without snarking at one another. I’m nearly done reading when I come across an article with the title circled in red.
“What’s OTT?” I ask, dropping my crust back on the plate.
“Over-the-top media services.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “They’re media services delivered directly to the end user. Like Netflix.”
I hold up the page with the circled text. “And you think this has potential?”
“You don’t?”
I’m loathe to admit I don’t know enough to have an informed opinion. It shouldn’t be a big deal because Parker is a year ahead of me in school. Theoretically, he’s taken more classes and has probably studied all kinds of stuff I haven’t seen yet, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.
“I’m not overly familiar with the topic.”
“Hang on.” He pulls his laptop from his bag and opens it up. “I wrote a paper about OTT last year that will probably explain it better than I can.” He taps on the keyboard, searching for the file as he continues. “There’s a lot of information on the subject because of the explosive growth in the last couple of years. That alone would make it easy for us to identify and address the distribution challenges. Plus, I’ll bet we’d get bonus points with Mac for relevancy.”
Parker stands and approaches the bed, laptop in hand. He crosses the cozy space in a few easy strides, looking perfectly at home, and when he hands me the laptop, his fingers brushing mine, a rush of awareness passes over me, bringing every nerve ending in my body to attention.
Parker must not feel it because he sinks down on the edge of the mattress like it’s no big deal that his giant, hulking body is in my bed.
