“What, you like this shirt or something?” He asked, glancing down at himself again.
“No, I meant, like… All the time. You look good all the time.”
He tilted his head at me, before pursing out his lips. “Are you in a weird mood or something tonight?” He asked. Jesus, he was really making it hard. What the fuck did I have to do, get down on one knee and propose?
Inhaling deeply, I sighed and decided to cut my losses and try again after chipping his defenses down a bit more.
“I think what you meant to say was,thank you so much for the compliment, BB. I’m sooo glad I can look good for you.” Shifting my voice into the one I used to imitate him, I blinked my eyelashes at him as I spoke.
He snorted, obviously pressing his lips together to avoid a full laugh, before shaking his head.
“Thank you,” he finally said. “For the compliment.”
It wasn’t romantic poetry, but it made my heart speed up in my chest. For once, it was as if he wasn’t thinking about all the things about me that he didn’t like, or how different our lives had been, or how he could never see himself with someone like me. It was like the world around us, the noise and lights and everything else, was fading out and melting away until it was just us.
“Do you have anything you want to say to me?” I wondered, leaning in close to him so our faces were just inches apart. “Like maybe that I look really good? Or what a pleasure it is to spend so much time in my company?”
Smirking, he reached out and gently nudged my face a few inches back from his, though his pretty hazel eyes were still dancing with amusement. It didn’t matter, I’d already gotten close enough to breathe in the clean, woodsy scent of his shampoo, so my pulse was pounding inside me. The way he smelled always made me imagine rolling around with him in some deep, dark forest.
When he opened his mouth to say something, the anticipation of what he might say to me, while looking so gorgeously relaxed and without an ounce of tension in his lithe body, had me practically drooling. I’d been hooked before, but this carefree version of him had me sinking in even deeper.
But then my precious little world, the one where Aspen actually liked me and was having a good time joking around with me, came crumbling down.
“Hey! Aspen, right?”
Preston whatever-his-last-name-was jogged up to us, looking boring and out of place in all the colorful chaos. Sure, he was good looking and had a pretty decent body, but his khaki chinos and shiny patent leather loafers screamedI don’t know how to have fun. Even though he’d allegedly helped to plan the whole party, all I could see was gay Mr. Rogers. Guys like that were a dime a dozen. Why was someone like him even interested in Aspen, anyway? Like he’d even know what to do with him.
“That’s me,” Aspen confirmed, raising his palm slightly in a light wave.
“I’m Preston Beaumont.” Beaumont. I nearly scoffed. It might have sounded like some aristocratic family from old money name, but I was pretty sure his sweater was from Target.
“Right,” Aspen acknowledged, nodding a bit. “Arie told me you wanted me to come.” He was blunt, I could always count on him for that.
Preston coughed a little, at least having the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “I, ah, didn’t realize he was going to tell you that part.”
Aspen laughed. “That’s Arie for you.”
“Yeah. He’s great,” Preston tacked on. “He and Che do a lot for the club.”
There was a split second lull in conversation, so I seized my opportunity.
“I’m Caelyx.” Anything to divide his attention so it wasn’t laser-focused on Aspen.
“Oh, yeah,” Preston said. “I’ve seen you around. You’re in my statistics class.”
“Yep,” I said, not sure what else to say. It was a boring class, so Mr. Perfect probably loved it. He probably had a 4.0 GPA, even though he ran the GSA club and helped organize events and stuff on top of that. But if he noticed my disdain, he didn’t show it.
“So you’re the mastermind behind all… This,” Aspen observed, gesturing to the party around us.
Preston laughed, before pushing his dark hair back off his forehead. “No, I can’t take all the credit for that. Everyone in the club worked very hard planning everything. Especially Lazaro, although he ended up not being able to come and enjoy it,” he added, sighing a bit. “I feel pretty bad about that.”
Lazaro… Where did I know that from? It wasn’t exactly a common name, so I was pretty sure I must have known who that was, somewhere deep in the back of my mind.
“Why isn’t Lazaro here?” Aspen wondered. I guessed maybe he knew him, too.
“Appendicitis,” Preston responded wryly. “They took it out, but he doesn’t get released until tomorrow.”
“Damn,” Aspen said, raising his eyebrows. “Is he okay?”
