Inwardly, I cringed at my phrasing.
“Consider giving me a chance.” His voice sounded hopeful. I felt his fingers drum against the plastic of my chair’s back as he spoke. When Professor Ida called his name, he raised his hand without even looking in her direction.
I dared to meet his gaze. “Where did you have in mind?”
He smiled. “Haven’t thought of the details yet. Someplace where you and I can build trust.”
I bit my lip, my interest slightly peaked. “Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.”
“You’ll have fun,” he promised. “And there are no strings attached if that’s what you’re worried about. Our rules still stand. As a matter of fact….”
I tried to pay at least some attention to what Professor Ida wrote on the whiteboard. Today was critique day. Something I had completely forgotten about, thanks to the distraction known as Weston.
“Here.” Weston pulled out the sheet of paper we’d written on last night. His neat handwritten mixed with my scratchy one carefully displayed our ‘five rules.’ I could feel my cheeks heat at number two: Listen to your body.
“Add or take away as many as you want,” he offered while slipping the paper into my palm.
I folded the rules up neatly and placed them into my bag so no one close to us could take a nosy peak. I was already suspicious of our neighbor to the right, a bald black girl with a sleeve of tattoos. She’d been glancing at Weston all semester as if she wanted to say something, but could never find the right moment.
I turned back to him and whispered, “Why are you so interested in talking to me suddenly?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing every strand off his forehead. “Sudden? It’s not that sudden, Covee. To be honest, I've been planning to talk to you all semester. This feels long overdue to me.”
I froze. All semester? My face broke into a smile. Oh, he was smooth. “Stop flirting with me. Let’s not get distracted like last time.”
He chuckled. The noise caught the attention of a few people near us. At the front of the classroom, Professor Ida looked pleased, thinking Weston had found one of her corny jokes humorous.
“Someone with a sense of humor,” she noted with a relieved sigh. “Finally.”
“Hilarious,” a guy wearing an oversized t-shirt in front agreed, starving for some brownie points. From the smile lingering on the professor’s lips, it looked like he won them.
“Fine. I’ll limit my flirting,” Weston agreed in a whisper. He was now leaning close enough so I could feel him exhale on my skin. “It’ll be a little difficult though, I won’t lie.”
I glanced at him. We were practically nose to nose. And if I started leaning like him, we’d be able to share our second kiss. I got goosebumps at the thought.
“Now, will you agree to come have some fun?” he offered. “On a date?”
“Fun? The other night you prophesied about your inevitable hurt. That doesn’t sound like fun.”
Weston bit his lip. “I beg to differ. Besides, I want to get to know you. Also, I could use your perspective on some things. I know you’re honest based on your design critiques.”
I frowned. So, his interest was something more than just pleasure. “My perspective?”
“Yeah, and you need mine.”
I suppressed a snort. “You’re kidding me.”
“I can prove it,” he told me. “Let’s hang out.”
I opened my mouth to object, but he continued, “No strings attached. If you’re completely opposed to it then we’ll go back to how things were, you and I sitting silently in the back of this class. Just consider it.”
Chapter 8
My skininstantly covered in goosebumps when I entered the apartment. Even though I couldn’t hear anyone talking, the thermostat showed I wasn’t alone.
“Sixty freaking one,” I complained to myself after checking the temperature.
My roommate, Taylor, ran hot, spoke fast and never seemed to be without someone to listen to her gossip. I prayed she was somewhere in her room this time. Running into her felt awkward each time, even after living together for a semester. She liked to comment on my hairstyles and would ask me if I knew anyone who sold weed for a cheap price.
