I turn and scowl. “Pipe down and enjoy the artistry, will you?”
He shakes his head, closing his eyes as he lies down again.
There are multiple seating options. I could sit on one of the Starburst-colored floor pillows, or on the glittery blow-up chair by the window. But I need to stay close to Penn, so, as casually as possible, I tell him to shift and make room for me on the beanbag.
He arches an eyebrow, but he doesn’t question it. Not aloud, anyway.
I lie beside him. We both stare at the ceiling.
“Hey, Wynne,” he says, cutting through the silence. “You’re pretty cute when you’re worried about me.”
“Shut up.”
He laughs. “You were right about this room, by the way. I gave you shit for it when you built this place, but it’s nice.”
I smile to myself. “I always wanted a room like this as a kid.”
“And now you have one,” he says. “We’re sitting inside your dream come true.”
The words settle between us, leaving me strangely choked up. Penn says it like he’s proud of me, but I don’t know what my dream is anymore. I don’t even know what’s true.
“One thing, though,” he adds. “What’s with all the fish?”
I snort. “A lot about this life doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, some of the best things in life don’t make sense. Not at first, anyway.”
“Respectfully, I disagree. I like things to make sense.”
The smile in Penn’s voice is obvious. “This from a woman with a roller-rink restaurant?”
That’s not me,I want to shout. But I can’t risk messing with the game. Or the rules. So I tell him, “I just like puzzle pieces that fit. I don’t like surprises.”
“Respectfully,” he says, echoing the word back to me. “I think you’re lying to yourself.”
“Oh, really?” I shift to my side, tucking my hands beneath my cheek. “How so?”
Penn rolls over, too, onto his good side. His features are dark, his face close, the bare skin of his torso and arms bathed in the light of the aquarium behind him. “Well, for one thing,” he says, lowering his voice, “I think you liked it when I surprised you yesterday.”
“You mean when you led me to a retirement home?”
His eyes glint in the dark. “No. I mean when I touched you.”
A flash of heat floods through me. Penn’s stare stays locked on mine, a single curl falling over his forehead, dipping over the bandage and the scar in his eyebrow. He brings a hand to my face, and as his fingers trace along my cheek, the tingling sensation reaches every part of my body he isn’t touching, too. His thumb lands on my lower lip, his gaze trained on my mouth as he asks, “Can I surprise you again?”
I nod, overwhelmed by a sparkly, heady rush.
Slowly, Penn props himself up and moves his hand to my bare waist. The shock of his warm hand sliding along my skin makes me gasp out his name.
“Penn.”
His voice is as husky as I’ve ever heard it. “Yeah?”
Our eyes meet. “Are you sure about this?”
He smirks, a glimmer in his eye. It’s the same taunting look he’s given me for years, only now it’s infused with something more—a heat that wasn’t there before. “You have no idea how sure I am.”
He shifts closer to tip my face toward his, his fingers tangling into my hair as our bodies wind together. It should feel stranger than it does, our hips aligned, the skin of my thighs pressed to Penn’s sides. But as I run my hand up his chest the way I’ve wanted to all night—longer, if I’m being honest with myself—I watch his eyes go dark, and his crooked mouth parts, and I want him impossibly, because it doesn’t feel strange at all. It feels good.
