He chuckles and again I’m beaming. I don’t know why I like goading him back or that I feel proud whenever I make him laugh, but I do. I’ll admit that.
“Silly girl,” he says once again, and it brings me back to our blanket under the stars where he’d said that before. “Do I have to defend and prove my sexual abilities now, too, like I did with kissing?”
“No!” I holler out before he can finish. “Not necessary! I’m sure you are a stud and that no man can compare to you. Is that what you want to hear?” I ask, dripping with sarcasm.
I overhear some grumbling, but I can’t make out the words at first. “Yes. I’d like to hear you say exactly that after I drive you wild with my impressive lovemaking.” His muttering is clear this time and my pulse picks up again.
A few minutes pass in silence, and I realize there is no way I’m going to sleep knowing he’s right there and with my body itching to go to him. It’s like all my senses are intensified and on high alert. My ears are even craning to hear the littlest of movements from his side.
“Have you ever?” he asks, and his question jars me from my lustful uncertainty.
“Have I ever what?”
“Had sex before?” He asks this casually, like he’s inquiring about the weather outside.
“That’s none of your business,” I state, hating the shrillness of my response.
“True,” he concedes, “but have you?”
I’m a virgin. It’s no secret, but it’s not something I particularly like to advertise either. It’s not like I haven’t had opportunities, but losing my V-card to a drunk college guy is not how I want it to go down. I don’t think I could handle my first time being a casual fling. I’ve read too many love stories like Pyramus and Thisbe to settle for anything less. As cavalier as possible, I reply, “Close, but no cigar.”
“I didn’t mean with a cigar,” he teases.
“Eeew!” I cry out and Cal laughs.
Again, his mattress makes several squeaks. “Shit!” Did he just punch his pillow? Sounded like it. “I’m definitely not going to be able to sleep knowing this and imagining otherwise,” he says, his voice muffled, making me think he has his face buried in his pillow now.
I’m glad I’m not the only one tossing and turning. I feel like I won a small victory somehow. “Tough. I’ll be sleeping like a baby in no time.” Liar, liar, comforter on fire—again. “Good night, Cal.”
He groans, but eventually he replies, “Good night, Thisbe.”
For the second time this week, I fall asleep with a smile and unfulfilled lust.
Chapter Nine
Night two. What do I do?
Given our different schedules, this whole shared front door situation has been working out better than I expected.
Although, the guys across the hall, Cooper and Van, have seen me coming and going from Cal’s room. Given their nudges to one another, I’ll need to grab them soon and clarify their misconception before it spreads like wildfire. They are actually pretty cool dudes. At least they aren’t the ones keeping me up with their music blasting. Cooper is especially sweet. He’s a twenty-four-year-old sophomore and over six feet tall. While I was initially interested in him, he’s been more like an older brother, always looking out for me. Not that I have a brother to compare this to, but it’s how I imagine one would be. This reminds me, I owe his roomie, Van, a coffee date, but I keep taking a rain check. One guy problem at a time.
Tonight, Cal kindly shuts off his music and turns the lights off without me asking. Should I say good night to him? Would that be weird? Too intimate? I’m about to just say it when Cal speaks first.
“My turn.”
My stomach does one of those flips upon hearing his voice—it feels amazing and awful at the same time. “Your turn what?” I ask, getting under the covers, as if that will keep me safe from my own hormones. No such luck.
“To ask a question,” he clarifies.
How can he be so annoying and sweet at the same time? And why am I starting to enjoy these late-night chats? I can’t let him know this, though. Nope, no way am I gonna show all my cards.
“Any brothers or sisters?” he asks without waiting for me to agree to a Q&A.
“Only child,” I respond, going along with his little game for the time being.
“That makes sense,” he states. When I fail to rise to his bait, he explains himself, “No wonder why you like your alone time so much.”
“I don’t share, either,” I say, throwing out another no-sibling stereotype and I’m rewarded with Cal’s laughter.
