His name on me?
Callanbrought that up earlier too.
The words gnaw at my nerves, but Zach doesn’t realize he unsettled me.
He wriggles his shoulders. “Man, it feels good to get that off my c-chest. I didn’t even realize how it’s been like a chokehold.
“It seemed like an impossible feat not dragging you onto my lap when you plop onto the couch. Watching you wearing my jerseys and not bending you over—” His nostrils flare. “Not even having the right to hug you like I want to.” He shakes his head, not seeing my gaping mouth gape wider. "Do you know how much your scent has been driving me mad? It's everywhere. Jasmine. That new perfume, the spicy one you dab behind your ears in the morning. Evenmyclothes since you started doing the laundry because we take too long?—”
“That’s why you’ve been a slow poke chore-wise, isn’t it?”
His fingers clench around the steering wheel. “I go to sleep with it. It's on the towels. It's in my clothes. You drove me crazy and I didn't even know that was what was wrong with me."
“You're insane."
"Ifeelinsane. It’s your fault."
“You’re a manwhore, Zach.”
“Reformed.”
I scoff. “Bullshit.”
He turns to me. “Denny, I’m not like your dad. I don’t cheat.”
The words sting. They shouldn’t. They should reassure.
Anxiously, I swallow. “There’ve been no girls around the apartment recently.”
“Not since I started having these feelings for you.”
“They’re new?” The question’s sharp.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he mumbles, “If you want me to apologize for sleeping around?—”
“I never said that,” I bite off. “Look, if anything, it’s good that you have practice. Only one of us can suck in bed and it’s not you.”
“You couldn’t suck?—”
"I've never done this before, Zach.” I squirm at the admission.
"Shouldn't like that as much as I do."
"No.” I scowl. “You sexist pig."
"I'll take it. I'll teach you everything you want to know too..."
As mind-blowing as that prospect is, I vow, "If you sleep with anyone who isn't me and we're in thisthing, I will never forgive you."
"Nor should you," he says promptly.
"And I'm not talking about what happened in tenth grade when you dumped me for those moronic mouth-breathers, Miles and Jason. I won't wait four months to let you sit next to me in class.
"I'm talking that's it. We'redone. Forever, Zach," I promise. “I’ll move out ‘over.’ If you come to me because this, whatever, isn't working out. If you say that you made a mistake. If you tell me that you want to be just friends, that's fine. It'll hurt at first, but it's forgivable. Fucking around on me isn't."
I don’t know why I’m ramming this home.
It’s not like this is going to last?—
