“Just saying, girl,” she says, laughing at my flushed cheeks, “if I were you, I’d jump on that chance. He’s hand-delivered to you.”
“Yeah, no,” I say as we exit the mall. “Paige and her gang would have my head like the Lannisters had Ned Stark’s.”
Stephanie laughs, linking her arm through mine as we dodge a group of preteens hogging the walkway. “Your Game of Thrones references are getting out of hand.”
“I’m serious, Steph, you know how she can get.” Nausea threatens to bring up the Caesar salad I had for lunch just thinking about Page’s potential cruelty, the way she can destroy someone’s social life with a single act.
“And I’m serious too.” She stops walking and turns to face me, shopping bags swinging against her legs. “Have you seen the way he looks at you? That boy’s got it bad.”
“Got what?”
“His eye set on you.”
I snort, but my heart does this annoying little flutter. “He looks at me like I’m the inconvenient roommate who monopolizes the bathroom.”
“Please. I saw how he kept glancing at you during lunch on Friday.” She pokes my ribs playfully. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you checking him out when he was reaching for his water bottle.”
“I was looking at the clock behind him.”
“Mm-hmm.” Stephanie’s smile stretches wider. “The clock that doesn’t exist?”
“He’s off limits. Paige would—“
“I’m not afraid of her,” Stephanie says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “What’s she gonna do?”
I fiddle with the strap of my purse, remembering the way she cornered that freshman girl last year for simply talking to her ex. “She’s Paige Buchanan. She could make me a social outcast for the rest of the year and beyond.”
“You’re overthinking this.” She shakes her head, dark curls bouncing. “So what if she finds out that the hottest guy in school is crashing at your place?”
“It’s the one thing that can never, and I mean never ever happen.” We place our bags in the trunk of Stephanie’s car. “The last thing I need is more drama.”
“The real drama is watching you pretend you’re not into him.” She slams the trunk shut, and we get inside. “You have this little crinkle right here—“ she taps between my eyebrows”—when you’re trying not to smile at something he says.”
I swat her hand away. “That’s myirritationcrinkle. Totally different.”
“Sure it is.” She leans against the seat, keys dangling from her finger. “You forget I’ve known you since third grade. I clocked your crush on Justin Timberlake with the same expression.”
“That was different. Justin wasn’t living down the hall from me, using all the hot water and leaving the toilet seat up.” Though Theo doesn’t actually do that. He’s quite considerate about bathroom etiquette.
“So you admit there’s something there?” Her eyes light up with triumph.
I groan and avoid her inquisitive gaze. “The only thingthereis my anxiety about keeping this whole arrangement on the downlow. If Paige finds out he’s living with us, she’ll twist it into something it’s not.”
“Maybe.” Stephanie starts the car. “Or maybe you’re more worried about what happens if you admit you’re attracted to him.”
I snatch the seatbelt and wrench it across my chest, my fingers fumbling over the buckle before finally securing it with a decisive click. The truth is, I don’t know which terrifies me more: Paige finding out, or the way my heart behaves whenever Theo’s in the room. It’s like a drumroll starts in my chest—totally beyond my control. What if one day I can’t hide it? Justin Timberlake never made me question my sanity like this.
Chapter 7
It’s Monday morning, and I hit the snooze button three times before I drag myself out of bed. Mondays should be banned from weekdays. I’m not looking forward to Chemistry with Rick, Paige, and—he better not say a word to her about living here.
My feet drag across the hardwood floor toward the bathroom, eyelids so heavy I can barely keep them open. The hallway stretches before me like an endless marathon track and I’m pretty sure there’s drool running from the corner of my mouth. I pause at the bathroom door, my knuckles barely making contact as I tap twice.
“Hello?” My voice comes out as a croak, barely audible even to my own ears. The silence that greets me feels like permission, so I push the door open, stepping into a wall of humidity.
Steam blasts me in the face as I stare at Theo standing before the bathroom mirror, still wet from the shower, with nothing but a towel slung low around his waist.
My half-asleep eyes snap wide open as I take in the sight of him—his lean, chiseled frame and the way droplets of water trace down his chest, slipping between the lines of his abs before disappearing at the towel’s edge. His dark, damp hair is plastered to his forehead, and he’s glowing from the heat under the lamp light.
