“There were a few feelers put out, but when I didn’t bite, she left it alone. Despite all the roommate shenanigans, she’s not actually pushy that way.”
August reaches down and picks up a football that had been under the coffee table. It looks downright small when he palms it in thought. His expression clouds. “Okay, you’re out of the revolving-bed-partner house, and will avoid what’s probably going to be another ugly blowup You’d already planned to move out anyway. So why are you upset?”
“She didn’t know that!” I lift my hands in irritation. “For all she knows, I’m a struggling college student with no place to go, and yet she just... booted me!” I deflate with a sigh. “I found it callous and hurtful, is all.”
Somehow, we’ve drifted until August’s shoulder rests againstmine, our heads nearly touching. As if he’s done it all his life, August takes my hand in his. The connection is instant. Warmth flows through him and into me.
Thoughtfully, he spreads my palm and fingers out over the larger expanse of his own and studies the difference in sizes. Mine looks tiny in comparison, though thankfully not childlike. We both have long fingers, narrow palms. His is rough with calluses, taut with strength, while mine is soft and smooth.
Our breathing slows, each inhale, exhale matching. We aren’t doing anything more than pressing our palms together, and yet it’s as if he’s stroking along my neck, down the small of my back, up the inner edge of my thighs. My head lolls, the fall of my hair puddling on his shoulder.
His voice becomes low and warm. “It was shitty of her, Pen.”
Okay, maybe I’m not totally calm, because I still hear Sarah bluntly telling me I had to go play over in my mind.
“And here I was agonizing over how to leave the place.”
His hum is noncommittal. But I hear the way he’s struggling not to point out the irony all the same. Taking my hand back, I shoot him a repressive look. “I repeat, she had no idea I had another place to live. And—” I lift a finger for punctuation “—she rents because she likes the company not because she needs the money.”
August shifts around so that he’s resting on his side and facing me. His eyes glint with humor. But his tone is conspiratorial. “Do you want me to hold back the box seat pass I was going to give her?”
My heart trips. “You were going to do that?”
“Sure.” His gaze searches mine. “She’s your roommate and a huge fan. I thought it might ease the way when you announced your departure.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. Do not get misty-eyed.
I bite the corner of my lip. “No, no. Don’t do that. She’s not a bad person, really. Just... complicated.”
“I don’t like that she hurt your feelings.” August scowls down at the football and picks it back up. “I’ll give her the tickets, but she’s not getting the team hat.”
“You got her a hat?”
The bridge of his nose pinks again. He spins the ball in his palm. “Ah, no. The hat was... ah... for Edward.”
A beat of silence pulses between us. One in which August tries valiantly not to squirm or look my way, and I try not to melt into a puddle of goo next to him.
“August,” I breathe. “That’s so . . . sweet.”
“God, not the dreaded ‘so sweet.’”
“What’s wrong with being sweet?”
He shoots me a repressive glare. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s latent trauma we little dudes experienced whenever one of our female relatives would cry out that word while pinching our cheeks or smothering us with kisses.”
“Oh, the horror.”
“Talk to me about ‘horror’ after you’re thrust in front of fifty relatives at the annual family picnic and are made to sing ‘Food, Glorious Food’ fromOliver Twist,” he says darkly.
I try to smother a laugh with my hand but fail spectacularly. “I had no idea you even knew the words to that song.”
“They played the musical on TV, didn’t they? And I was only singing it in ode to the buffet I was about to attack. Then Aunt Edna swooped in and outed me.” His voice dips to singsong. “‘Oh, isn’t that so sweet? Margo, you simplymusthear this!’”
I laugh harder. “How have I never heard this story? How old were you?”
“Six,” he mutters, then lifts a lofty brow. “You finished?”
“Almost. It’s just so sweet—ack!”
