“Why didn’t you become a doctor?” he asks.
“Takes too long,” I say, still looking at his knee.
“What’s the rush?”
I look up at him, keeping my fingers on his skin.
I hate how much I like touching him. How each time I do it, it feels better than the last. How each time I do it, I think I won’t be able to stop.
My family life isn’t something I talk about with people. The person who knows the most is Austen and even he hardly knows anything. He was always cool with me not talking about it, but I think that’s because he caught enough here and there over the years to know to let it be.
But something about Alex… I just feel like I can tell him things and I don’t have to worry about what he’ll think or say.
“Needed to get away from my mom,” I say simply.
His eyes widen slightly, but he nods as if he isn’t surprised to hear it.
“I get not wanting to be around your parents,” he adds. “Mine suck too.”
“In a whole different way.” I grab the ice pack, rewrap it in the towel since it fell out, then lie it on his knee.
“Does that really matter?” he asks.
I frown. “Does what matter?”
“If it’s in a different way. If we both have shitty parents, we get each other, right? Does it matter why they suck?”
I give a small shrug. “It’s just nice when people understand you.”
“I understand what it’s like to have shitty parents,” he says firmly. “Isn’t that enough?”
Finally, I nod, though I’m not sure why he’s getting so upset about this. “Yeah, I think it is.”
His gaze holds mine, and somehow my fingers are back on his knee even though I swear I stopped touching him. His lips part and before I do something really fucking stupid, I hop to my feet and say, “So, how about that ice cream?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Alex
I wake up in the middle of the night hot as hell. The television light filters through the room, but there’s no sound. I rub my eyes, my body warm like a fire. My leg still hurts like hell, but it’s more manageable than it was. Guess the ibuprofen hasn’t worn off yet. That’s when I realize the reason I’m so hot.
I’ve got a thick flannel blanket covering me, and I’m still in my shirt and briefs. I run hot, always have, which is why I sleep in my briefs, if not completely naked, usually ontopof the covers.
But I didn’t think Jordan would take too well to waking up to my naked ass on his couch for however long I’d be staying.
We should probably talk about that—me staying here and my plans to return home, or just somewhere that isn’t here. I don’t expect to stay here forever.
I kind of like it here, though.
Maybe because he’s here.
I’ve been living on my own since I was twenty-one. I’ve never lived with another person, period—aside from my parents, and living with them was pure hell.
It didn’t take long for Jordan and I to acclimate, and I know it should be weird, but I’ve barely been here three weeks, and it feels like a giant weight has been lifted off my chest.
I’ve never felt more likeme, than I do here.
I like getting up early with him and having coffee. My days are filled with projects—projects he doesn’t seem to mind, because he’s said point blank he doesn’t care, but I know he does—and though I’ve never been much of a chef at home myself, I find myself looking forward to dinner every day. I get excited over groceries and seeing what I can make and what he’ll like.
