And the words that come out of my mouth are meaner than I mean them to be.
“Oh, sorry, are you toobusyto study?”
His brow furrows, lips parting as he blinks down at me like I just woke him from hibernation. He rubs one eye with the back of his knuckle and yawns, like a literal golden retriever in human form, then squints at me.
“No?” he says, voice still thick with sleep, blinking. “Shit. Sorry. I was just napping.”
And just like that, the venom in my chest wavers because he looks so confused and earnest andnot at alllike someone who just rolled out of bed with a girl he’s supposed to be in love with. He looks like someone who was tired and fell asleep and is now trying to figure out why the weird trainer kid looks like he’s ready to set the world on fire.
I wish I wasn’t so easy to read.
I wish I didn’t care this much.
But I just nod and look away, pretending I’m very interested in my shoes as he stands there shirtless and half-asleep, still too beautiful for my fucking peace of mind.
12
Griffin
He’s so fucking pretty.
It honestly kind of pisses me off.
And he’s not pretty in some soft, delicate way either. I mean, yeah, he’s got these long-ass lashes that shouldn’t make sense on a guy, and his mouth tightens when he’s focused. His lips press together and his jaw flexes just slightly like he's holding something in his teeth. It draws all my attention to the shape of his mouth, the way his lower lip is a little fuller. I could sink my teeth into that plush pillow and it would have just enough give.
And his body…Jesus.He has broad shoulders that fill out his hoodie, the fabric pulling tight across his back when he leans forward. His forearms are thick and solid, muscle shifting under skin every time he moves his hand, veins standing out when he grips a pen and writes. He’s all hard lines; there’s nothing delicate about him anywhere. Watching him makes something low and hot coil in my stomach, and I have to look away before it gets obvious how much my body is reacting.
I can feel it in my chest at first. This awkward tightening and this almost restless heat that spreads low in my stomach. It’s a physical reaction to something I find really fucking hot.
My body reacts before my brain can catch up, and when it does catch up, all it can do is sit there, completely fucking dumbfounded, likewhat the hell is happening right now?
I’m getting fucking hard.
I’ve never had this kind of pull toward a guy before. Never had my attention dragged back over and over like gravity’s fucking with me. Every time he fucking moves, I notice something else. The sharp line of his jaw. The way his Adam’s apple jumps when he swallows, like I’m supposed to be looking at that. And then there’s how he sits with his legs spread wide, giving me the perfect view of his cock in his low slung sweatpants.
And yeah, I’ve never noticed another mans package before. My dick’s half hard in my sweats, pressing against the fabric, and shifting doesn’t do shit except remind me how bad it’s getting.
Jesus Christ. How the fuck did I end up here? Oh yeah, professor dick-for-brains saddled me with a partner. Group projects are hell. And it just so happens my partner looks like this.
And I can’t stop looking at him. I want to. I keep trying to find something, maybe some little flaw, that’ll break this spell or whatever the hell it is.
But there’s nothing. He’s just sitting there, being unfairly hot, and too close for my brain to pretend this is normal.
He glances up at me right then and catches me staring. Again.
He pauses whatever he was saying mid fucking sentence and asks, “You with me?”
“Yeah,” I shoot out way too fast. Fuck, my throat’s dry as hell. “Sorry. Just… tired.”
Which isn’t even bullshit. I am tired. I crashed out earlier, face-down in my sheets and woke up to him knocking like the building was on fire. Honestly, I thought it was gonna be Sabrinasince I’ve been dodging her for a few days and the idea of seeing her made my stomach twist.
Now my body feels like it’s been turned on. I’m fucking wired. Like some part of me just flicked the fuck back to life and doesn’t know what to do with all this energy.
Jacob just nods, like he buys it. He just keeps going, steady as ever, picking up right where he left off before he caught me staring, explaining some part of neuromuscular something or other. I stop caring what the words mean and just listen to the sound of his voice.
That’s the thing. It’s weirdly nice. Calming, even.
I lean back on my bed and drop my forearm over my eyes for a second just to get my face out of sight. I need a minute to fucking breathe.
