“No,” he answers, doing a pretty good impression of my negative reply earlier. “Come on, I’m not used to going to sleep yet or having the lights out.”
“Scared?”
“Terrified,” he quips. “Please? If you want me to shut up, you’re going to have to help me get sleepy.”
I sigh loud enough for him to hear and rack my brain for something to say, and then it occurs to me. “Our little door situation actually reminds me of Pyramus and Thisbe.”
“Who?”
“It’s an ancient Babylonian myth centuries before Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, but he definitely borrowed from it.”
“How’s the original story go?” Cal asks, sounding fascinated.
No longer as interested in sleep, I sit up in my bed, always eager to give an English lecture, but usually my friends could care less.
“Pyramus and Thisbe were two teens who occupy connected houses but are forbidden by their parents to talk because of their family’s rivalry. Through a crack in one of the walls, though, they talk and whisper their love for each other and finally arrange to meet outside near the woods. She arrives first but sees a lion with a mouth bloody from a recent kill, so naturally, she flees, accidentally leaving behind her cloak. When Pyramus arrives, he is horrified at the sight of Thisbe’s clothing in the lion’s bloody mouth. Assuming the wild cat has killed her, Pyramus kills himself, falling on his own sword. When Thisbe returns, she sees her to-be-lover’s dead body and then stabs herself with the same sword, making them the original star-crossed lovers.”
“That reminds you of this?”
Um … I cover my mouth with my hands, wishing to disappear under the covers. “Not the lovers’ or death part,” I squeak out between the space in my fingers. “Just, you know, talking through the wall and the connected rooms.”
His current silence has me wanting to run past him and straight out of Tasker Hall.
“I did pass you that note the other day,” Cal finally says, and I’m sagging back down on my bed in relief. I wasn’t looking forward to running through the quad in my pajamas and begging my friends for lodging. “I … can make it a love note next time.”
Stunned, a second ticks by and I’m not sure what to say.
“I think I just heard your emerald eyes roll,” he adds, and I burst out laughing, grateful he’s being a good sport about my fairy tale blunder.
I find my voice. “Sorry, I’ll be quieter next time.” He chuckles, too, and it’s deep and sensual. The kind you’d expect to hear when you’re cozying up with a lover on a Sunday morning with no place to go. The image has me almost sighing in longing, wanting to be tangled up with Cal that way. I have to take a deep breath and shake the tempting image out of my head.
“That’s really cool that you know stuff like that,” Cal admits. I’m delighted by his comment, but I bite my bottom lip to keep from saying something stupid or sarcastic. Again, he speaks first. “You’re pretty cool, too, Cal,” he adds in a feminine voice.
I groan and smack at my pillow, turning away from the door. He sure knows how to ruin a moment.
“What?” he asks, all innocent-like.
“You’re so cocky, that’s what!”
“Give me an example,” he demands back, sounding affronted.
“All right, just to name a few, the winking, singing aloud the lyrics ‘One kiss is all it takes to fall in love with you,’ pahlease!”
“So, I like to wink at pretty girls, sue me.” Pretty? Don’t let it go to your head, April. He probably says that to all the girls he winks at, whether he really means it or not. “Besides, I was thinking the song was about you, not me. ‘Something in you lit up heaven in me. The feeling won’t let me sleep.’”
Butterflies dance around in my stomach. Is he being serious? No, he’s never serious. Just toying with me, but for once, I can understand his giggly girls because I have an urge to giggle with pleasure, too, especially since he sort of sang the last bit like he was serenading me. “You’re the one not letting me sleep right now,” I return, but it lacks my usual bite.
“I could come over and help,” Cal says suggestively, and I can hear his mattress moving. There is no doubt his offer is sexual.
I try not to freak out at the thought of him walking through the door and coming to “help.” The image has me both drooling and hyperventilating. “How would that help?” I can hear the slight panic in my voice, so I take a calming breath. With more control than I’m feeling, I say, “You would only keep me up further.”
“Funny, it puts me to sleep after,” he says, and I hear him sitting back down on his bed.
“Good to know. My condolences to your former girlfriends.”
He snorts and I smile, knowing it was a pretty good comeback on my part. “They never complained.”
“How could they? You were asleep.”
