My attention lingered behind me, where James was putting the joint out in a half-empty beer bottle on the windowsill. I wondered how he could be so absentmindedly perfect first thing in the morning. How was it possible to look that good without any effort? Why did he also have tousled hair, red eyes, and even a slight hint of bags and yet still end up so . . .
“Do you want a drawing, a photo, a blowup picture?”
“Enough,” I retorted, pretending to not have been just caught staring at him.
The morning had started off badly, and if that wasn’t enough, now I’d have to encounter his dad wearing a man’s T-shirt.
Way too embarrassing.
“I’m not coming,” I insisted obstinately.
“Suit yourself, if you wanna starve to death.”
Starve to death? You really got the story wrong.
“Do you have anything I could wear? Or put under my shirt?” I asked. James shot a look in the mirror and flexed his abs. I looked away when I saw him put on a tight-fitting tank top that hugged every single muscle of his abs.
“I only have workout shorts. They’ll be big on you,” he groaned, inspecting his own reflection impatiently.
Then, to my surprise, he took off the tank top he’d just put on and wore another. “It’s always better than going downstairs in your underwear,” I murmured when I saw him opt for a large tank top that didn’t suit him at all from the basket.
“Try these.”
He threw me some shorts that I quickly grabbed before locking myself in the bathroom.
I washed my face then lingered to stare at the girl in the mirror.
Just resist a little longer, June.
“Thank you for yesterday,” I said, after washing up and getting changed.
James stuck his lower lip out. “For what?”
“I don’t know—I wasn’t sober and you didn’t take advantage of me.”
“What does it say about the fucking society we live in if you have to thank me for something like that?”
He looked at me, and I was at a loss for words.
“Well, it wasn’t assumed.”
“Um, I don’t know . . .”
I saw him giggle; he was about to say one of his things.
“And besides if I was in my space, you definitely weren’t in yours. You took up half the bed with your ass, White.”
“Yeah, unfortunately you know my ass by memory because you keep x-raying it, idiot.”
“Walk, you moron,” he grumbled, pushing me out of his room. I motioned for him to go downstairs first.
“Please, go.”
“Like you wouldn’t stare at my ass,” he taunted me with a smirk.
“Unlike you, I know how to be discreet.”
“Shut up.”
