“Sure.”
I open the door and freeze.
“Help a girl out? The last thing I want is to wind up in Lewis’s room.”
“End of the hall, gray door with the blackboard—there should be a few jerseys hanging up if you need something to sleep in. They’re clean,” he adds.
I tiptoe down the silent hallway. I already got caught red-handed on the kitchen table earlier—if anyone sees me sneaking out of Donovan’s room in the middle of the night, it’s game over. This is all so out of control.
I shut myself in the bathroom and perch on the edge of the tub. My clothes feel too tight—claustrophobic, almost. I strip and take a quick shower, holding my hair out of the way, turning the water to a trickle, keeping as quiet as I can.
I spot Donovan’s jerseys on the back of the door and briefly consider knotting them together into a rope—anything to help me slip out the bathroom window and vanish into the night. Problem is, I’m on the top floor and there is no window. I sigh and put one of them on. I’m doomed.
I stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is wild and I’ve lost my hair tie. I feel vulnerable without my bun.
Once I’ve killed all the time I can, I dart back into the bedroom, whipping the door shut behind me, pausing before I turn, my hand resting on the handle. Could I walk home? Is that an option? No, I reason—it’s late, I don’t want to be walking across campus at this time of night. I glance at the bed. But I’m almost as scared to sleep next to him.
“That was fast,” Donovan calls over. “Did the hallway scare you?”
“The only thing freaking me out is this room.”
I whip around. Could I sleep on the floor, maybe? I lock eyes with him, and he sighs.
“Come on, Carrie. Go back to sleep. Everything’s going to be okay—I swear I won’t hog the comforter.”
I take a deep breath in and stride over to the other side of the bed, settling myself on the mattress, keeping my back to him just long enough to still my heart. I’m being ridiculous, I know, but I can’t help it—every alarm in me is blaring.
20DONOVAN
Carrie has her head tucked between her knees, breathing hard. I should ask whether she’s about to puke on my rug, but I can’t take my eyes off her back. She’s wearing one of my jerseys, and seeing her wearing my name and number like that has got me hard. She’s not the first girl to throw on my stuff, but this is the first time I’ve felt this way—comforted. Possessive, almost.
She seems more with it than she was earlier, and though I’m itching to do unspeakable things to her, she’s out of it, and I don’t want it like this. I want her to want it—I need her to send me a sign.
What happened to her whole sex-starved thing? Her urge to “use” me? We used to hook up at the drop of a hat, but she’s been on the defensive since she slammed on the brakes a few days ago.It all went to shit with her dumbass girlfriend idea.
I miss her skin against mine. Especially since that insane kiss. It’s crazy—we spent weeks hanging out, and I never felt this urge I’m dealing with now. I need her. All I can think about is being inside her. Her mouth all over mine.
She’s right there next to me in my bed, and it’s so hard to resist. My body is crying out for her.Think depressing thoughts. Someone keying your car, maybe. That should do it.
I should’ve taken her back to hers—kept things simple. I guess I just wanted to be around her a little while longer.
She glances over her shoulder, and I smile, patting the mattress beside me.
“Bedtime, young lady.”
Man, I want her so bad. But now’s not the time. She looks down at the space next to me, her eyes flickering from my hand to my face, and seeing her act all shy like this is putting me on edge. I bite my tongue. Now that I know exactly how she makes me feel, I need to think before I act.
“Your hair is amazing. Why do you always wear it up?”
“No compliments.” She winces.
“You’re weird, you know that?”
“I know. I’m the worst.”
You’re the best.
When finally she stretches out beside me, I make sure the comforter is doing a good job of hiding the bulge between my legs.I’m messed up. I bounce up and down a little on the bed.
