“Um,” I managed to say. “Follow me.”
He chuckled and waited a second before saying, “You’re not moving, Covee.”
“Right.” I sighed in embarrassment and started down the hallway. “Because moving would be the most logical next step.”
“It would,” Weston agreed.
As soon as we entered my room, he shut the door behind us. I heard the click of the lock.
“You can set it anywhere,” I told him when he started looking for a place for my bag.
As he moved towards my desk, I scanned the room to assess its cleanliness. I tucked away all my underwear last night, thank God. Even though underwear on my floor would be the least of my worries soon enough.
My bookshelf was its usual cluttered mess, but it made the space look homey. My C.S Lewis was mixed up with my Beverly Jenkins and Suzanne Collins. I liked it that way.
“You from Fairfield?” Weston was standing at my desk, staring at a photo on my corkboard.
“Yeah, you’ve been there?” I asked as I glanced at the picture. The photo captured me standing in front of a roller coaster entrance with a Fairfield Carnival t-shirt. My arms were full with two oversized stuffed pink bears, my first boyfriend pretended to win for me. I was crazy good at ring toss, but also crazy meek when it came to him. He needed a win. I just wanted a stuffed bear.
Weston continued to look at the photo in silence. Just as the moment was about to get awkward, he finally said, “No.”
I looked him over. His face seemed normal, but the way he stared at the photo made me think he could be lying. For what reason, I don’t know. Fairfield was a quiet city just big enough to get lost in, but small enough to know your neighbor. If you knew about it, there was no reason to hide. The place was too boring for anyone to care.
“My turn to ask,” I said in a gentle tone. “Are you good?”
He turned to me. My suspicion disappeared, replaced with nerves. Weston wore a smile that made me feel like the only person in the world that shared his secret. If he had such a secret, I wanted to know. And I wanted him to know I’d do anything in my power to keep it.
Instead of answering me, Weston carefully cupped my cheek. His thumb grazed my skin. I pressed my lips together. The action made his eyes drop to them. He leaned in to kiss me and like a schoolgirl, my knees weakened.
Weston’s kiss was different from it had been in the library. This time he was slow. He was cautious in wrapping his other arm around my waist and his lips nudged mine open with a slight hesitation. He tried to see if I wanted to lead. When I didn’t accept the offer, he took on the role.
I sighed into his mouth and leaned into his embrace. Weston’s response was a low groan, starting from the back of his throat. His hand on my face was firm now, pulling me closer. I placed my palms on his chest, gathering a handful of his shirt. God, he couldn’t be close enough. We were mouth to mouth, and I still needed him closer.
“Please,” I murmured onto his lips as we broke away for a moment to catch a breath.
“You don’t have to beg when it comes to me,” he whispered. “I’m going to give you everything you want.”
I laughed. He looked confused.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing. I just used to fantasize about someone like you saying something like that.” My skin warmed but I didn’t for a second regret sharing when he smiled.
“Someone like me?” He rubbed my cheek again. I leaned into his hand. I had to fight the urge to turn my face to kiss his palm. Doing that would feel too intimate. Weston was being sweet, but he didn’t exactly ask me out to dinner. He was here for casual satisfaction.
“Hot,” I told him.
It was his turn to laugh first and with striking seriousness, he replied, “I’m okay.”
“Modesty,” I said with admiration in my tone. “Nice.”
Weston dipped down to kiss me again. I smiled against his mouth, ready to continue teasing him about his good looks whenever he pulled back for a breath. His hands found their way to my hips. I stepped back as he carefully nudged me towards the bed.
When the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed, Weston paused. His hands slid under my shirt and he pulled back to see my expression. I smiled and nodded. Without missing a beat, he lifted my shirt over my head. It briefly got caught in on my Afro, so I had to take part in the tugging and twisting.
“Sorry,” I told him with a giggle while I tried to reshape my hair. “It’s a lot.”
He shook his head and threw the shirt to the side. “It’s perfect.”
