"Because we're idiots," Groover yells back.
That we are.
And I'm the biggest idiot of us all.
CHAPTER 9
DEVON
DECEMBER'S TREATING ME like it hates me and I. Don't. Like. It.
I have an exam tomorrow. Twentieth-century cultural theory. I should be studying. My textbook is open on my desk, mocking me with its dense paragraphs about postmodernism and whatever the fuck Baudrillard was on about. My notes are spread out like a paper graveyard of my academic ambitions.
But can I focus on any of that?
Nope.
Because all I can think about is Ace.
Specifically, Ace's lips. And his hand on the back of my neck. And that tiny sound he made when I slipped him my tongue.
I groan into my pillow, loud and pathetic.
"Just ask him out already," Philip says from his desk, not even looking up from his laptop.
I turn my head just enough to glare at him. "I can't just ask him out."
"Why not?" Now he's looking at me, eyebrow raised, judging me with his eyes like the terrible roommate he is. "What? Can't pull an athlete?" He's grinning now, the asshole.
I flip onto my back, staring at the ceiling. "Oh, I can pull an athlete, alright. I just can't pull a straight athlete."
Philip spins his chair around to face me fully. "Fine, then. Suffer. Stay all worked up until you combust and fail all your exams in the process."
"I'm not worked up."
"You've been lying on your bed groaning for twenty minutes."
"That's just my natural state of being."
Philip snorts. "You're so full of shit."
The problem is, Philip's right about the worked-up part. I don't do this. I don't obsess over guys. I hook up, I have fun, I move on. Clean. Simple.
But when Ican'thook up? When I literallycan'thave fun?
Ugh.
Ace is ruining me.
It's not even just the kiss, though the kiss is definitely living rent-free in my brain like a terrible tenant who throws loud parties at 3 AM. It's everything. The way he blushes when I say something he finds outrageous. The way he gets all flustered and tries to hide it. The way he genuinely cares about this charity thing, about the shelter, about doing the right thing.
And then, there's his body. Yup. That body definitely doesn't hurt.
The body you can't have, my brain reminds me.
I sit up abruptly, rubbing my face. This is getting out of hand. I'm losing my shit thinking about a straight guy who kissed me once because we were bullied into it by a bird.
A bird.
