“I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s not my fault they’re like that.”
“I know that,” I huff. “But they aren’t my family. I don’t have to deal with them.”
He puts his hand on my thigh. “But it’s so much easier when you’re there.”
I stare down at where he’s touching me, wishing it meant more than it does. I shift and he pulls his hand away as I thank my dick for not responding.
“Just get me home.”
I close my eyes and rest my head back for the duration of the ride. I must fall asleep because before I know it, the car is stopped and Austen is shaking me awake. When I open my eyes, I’m met with his blue ones, filled with apology.
“Sorry,” I mutter, running a hand down my face. “I didn’t mean to pass out on you.”
“Don’t be,” he answers. “I get it.”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t make you feel worse about all of it. It’s just me.” It falls silent for a moment, and I can’t help but cave. I hate to see him upset, and even worse, I hate to be the reason for it. So, I say, “You wanna come up for a bit? We can watch a movie or something.”
“It’s late,” he says. I glance at the clock.
“Shit, you’re right. Didn’t realize the time. I’ll see you later?”
He nods as I push open the door and get out. I’m halfway up the steps to my building when he calls my name. I turn to face him.
“Change of plan. Wait for me!”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head as I watch him pull off to find a parking spot. He jogs over to me a moment later, giving me awhat can I say?smile and shrug. I throw my arm around his shoulder, shaking him as we head inside and make our way up to my room—that I thankfully have to myself.
The person I was rooming with dropped out a week in and they haven’t needed to fill it yet. Not mad about this one bit. I like the privacy.
“What are we going to watch?” Austen asks, making himself comfortable as I lock the door and toss my wallet and phone onto the nightstand by my twin-sized bed that isn’t made.
“Indiana Jones.”
He frowns. “Are you serious?”
“Well, Iwas, but not after that look.” I shove him out of the way and look down at my stack of DVDs. The Wi-Fi here sucks, and I don’t have money to afford a streaming subscription. Austen said he’d let me use his log in, but I’m not a charity case so I won’t take it. Especially after Savannah made a snarky comment about why I have my own profile on the account, as if it matters. I have my own because we watch TV together enough—well, we used to in high school—and I always felt bad for screwing up histhings you may likesection when I watch stuff he doesn’t.
Like Indiana Jones.
“Oh, this one,” I say with a laugh, pulling it from the very bottom and showing it to him. He barks out a laugh.
“I can’t believe you still have that.”
“Of course I still have it. It’s only my favorite.”
“You get that started, I’m ordering pizza,” he answers with an eye roll.
“We just got back from dinner…”
He narrows his eyes at me, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Don’t act like that salad and miniscule serving of steak tips and carrots filled you up.”
I don’t give him an answer because I don’t want to sound ungrateful. So I just let him order pizza while I pull the Mighty Ducks disc out of its case.
We’ve watched this movie a hundred times, mostly when we were kids. Though I’m not much of a sports guy, it is a good movie—and was always a favorite. Haven’t seen it in a few years now, which is the perfect reason to watch it.
The pizza takes way too long to get here, and I’m already falling asleep when they call to say they’re outside. I offer to run down to get it to wake up a bit.
Austen and I get comfortable on my bed, both sitting against the wall, so close our legs touch. I put the pizza box down in front of us and he presses play.
