The corner of Sem’s mouth quirks up. “Can’t promise much.”
“They’ll be careful,” Caleb reassures me, inching closer, his eyes meeting mine.
“We’ll see,” I say just as Sem and Luke hop into my car. The tires spin as they speed out of the driveway, and I close my eyes. If they do crash it, I don’t want to witness it. Plausible deniability.
Lucky for me, they don’t, and it’s returned to me in one piece, just a little dustier than normal.
And the way Caleb is looking at me, his eyes soft, his body nearly draped over mine…it was worth it.
When it’s finally time to leave, I wish I had a little more time with these people. I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did. It was different in the best way.
Caleb must feel the same way because he’s grumpily shoving things into his plastic bag.
“This wasn’t too painful?” he asks me, peering over at me while I zip up my suitcase.
“No. It was nice.”
He rubs at his stomach and then stares at me longingly. It’s making my skin prickle and itch.
“You going to be weird when we get home?” he asks as I grab my suitcase and move toward the bedroom door.
“Nothing needs to be weird about this.”
And it doesn’t. We can go back to the way things were before he got sick, the two of us coexisting together like platonic roommates.
But the closer we get to campus, the quieter he gets. He doesn’t touch me either, and I find that I dislike that very much. Not that I bring it up. It’s better this way. It really is. But eventually, the silence pulls at me until I can’t hold it in anymore, and I finally break.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Who says something’s wrong?”
“You’re not talking or fiddling with the music or…” My voice trails off.
“Or what?” he asks.
“Touching me,” I finally say.
He scoffs, and his head falls against the headrest.
“Just trying to give you a break,” he says, and my fingers tighten around the steering wheel.
“Who said I wanted a break?” I ask.
“Just never sure how you feel. You’re not exactly easy to read, and you never open up.”
I can’t help it when my hand falls, palm up, on the center console. Waiting. Begging in my own way.
“Want me to hold your hand, Whit?”
I start to move it away, but he quickly wraps his hand around mine.
I glance at it, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth.
“So, Whit,” he says, his thumb rubbing along the back of my hand, “since you’re trying to be more open with me, tell me something about you that I don’t know.”
When I don’t answer quickly enough, he adds, “And really, that could be anything because I know next to nothing about you.”
“What would you like to know, Caleb?”
