It’s really hard to watch someone out of the corner of your eye when you’re sitting right next to them. I’m kind of afraid that my eyeballs will get stuck that way, or that he’ll see me, but it seems like his attention is fully on the movie. He doesn’t glance at me once.
Maybe I do smell.
“This shit is funny,” he says, laughing again as I struggle to make my laugh convincing as I check back into the movie to make sure I know what’s was going on.
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites. Tina Fey wrote it, and she’s a genius.” I have a bit of a heterosexual girl crush on her.
Jett shifts again, and his shoulder brushes mine and he moves a fraction closer to me as I try not to freak out. It’s only an inch closer and our shoulders have barely brushed. Nothing to make a big deal out of. I’ve touched boys’ shoulders before. I’ve had plenty of shoulder-touching experience. I’m not a shoulder virgin.
But still, I shiver as he brushes against me again.
“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.” Without an answer from me, he gets up and comes back with a fuzzy blanket and places it over me. Then he sits down and pulls part of the blanket over his lap. We are sharing a blanket. This should not be cause for me to get fluttery again, but it is.
“Better?” he says holding the popcorn out again.
“Yeah, thanks.” Not much is left but the half-popped kernels and I don’t like those.
“You can have the rest.” He dumps them into his hand, crunches on them and moves closer to me again. Any moment now, my eye is going to start to twitch, or I’m going to say something dumb. I just know it.
He puts the bag down and then he rests the arm closest to me on the back of the couch, right behind my shoulders. I freeze for a moment and then lean back a little. This is the signal for him to put his arm around me, right? God, I suck at this.
The arm creeps closer to my shoulders and then, there it is. I make sure I don’t look at him, because if I do, I don’t know what will happen. I shift closer and he finally slides his arm around me.
Letting out a shaky breath, I finally look at him.
“Is this okay?”
“Y-yeah,” I say, my voice shaky too. God, I’m a freaking junior in college. I should not be acting like a sixth grader at her first dance who’s wondering if she’s going to be asked to slow dance. This is what happens when you have nearly zero dating experience. If only it was something you could learn from a book. I’d be all over that.
“Good,” he says and he pulls me closer so I’m almost resting on his chest. It’s a very nice chest. Not too skinny, but not too muscle-y. Those guys that have so many muscles that the veins stand out are gross. Hazel thinks they’re sexy, but I think she’s out of her mind.
The rainforest-y smell floods my senses and I swear he can probably hear my pounding heart as the hand that’s on my shoulder starts making little circles on my arm, as if he’s not even aware that he’s doing it.
Wow. I guess I don’t smell. Or maybe I do and he thinks it’s sexy. That could also be a possibility.
The movie keeps playing and I find myself actually relaxing, and before I know it, my eyes are closing and I’m falling asleep against Jett.
Chapter 4
“Wake up, princess,” a male voice I only sort-of recognize says in my ear. My eyes are slow to open and I’m staring right at a chest I don’t remember falling asleep on. I lift my chin and meet a set of gorgeous brown-gold eyes.
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft as I realize I’m lying on top of him. At some point during the movie, he’d shifted under me and brought both our sets of legs up on the couch and laid back, pulling me so we’re front to front. My boobs are completely squished into his chest, which is the first thing that makes me try to shift off him.
“Um, hey,” I say as I struggle to get off him, but there’s no place to put my hands, so I end up trying to roll and he tries to help me, but I end up tipping too far off the couch, banging the back of my head on the coffee table and landing on my side on the floor with a crash.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Is he laughing?
“Ow,” I say. I’m awake now. There’s a sharp pain in my hip, and in my skull. Jett reaches down and hauls me up.
“You’re laughing at me,” I say as I feel the back of my head.
“No I’m not,” he says, while trying to contain his laughter.
“Asshole,” I say, but he’s still holding onto me.
“Where does it hurt?” he says, finally showing some concern.
“The back of my head and my hip banged on the floor. That’s gonna leave a mark.” He walks around me and tenderly moves my hair out of the way to look at my soon-to-be-bumpy head. I go all tingly again, and the pain fades just a little. This guy is better than Tylenol. And then I feel something warm right where the bump is and I swear he just kissed it.
“And your hip?” he says, his voice low.
Is it possible to die from anticipation? Because I think I just did. Jett crouches down and I swear I’m going to have a seizure if he does what I think he’s going to do.
And then he very carefully places the lightest of kisses on my hipbone and OH MY GOD I SWEAR I CAN FEEL HIS LIPS THROUGH MY JEANS AND I’M GOING TO DIE NOW.
He looks up at me from his crouched position and his face is oh so serious.
“All better,” he says and his voice hitches a little and I realize that if I just turned my body, he would be face-to-face with my downstairs. Well, not like my downstairs has a face. It does have lips though . . .
My pondering of my downstairs face is interrupted by Jett standing up and chuckling again. I’m not sure why, but I start laughing with him because, well, I don’t want to be the one not laughing.
“What time is it?” I ask. He leans around me and looks at the DVD player.
“Nearly one.” He stretches his arms over his head and his shirt rides up and I realize four things:
One, he has tats on his stomach.
Two, it is a very nice stomach.
Three, I want to touch this stomach.
Four, I need to resist this urge.
I can’t help myself as my eyes move lower and take in the rim of his underwear that peeks out from under his jeans. I can’t tell if he’s wearing boxers or briefs. Or that weird hybrid thing. Boy underwear is confusing, but I suppose that’s nothing compared to girl underwear. Thongs, bikinis, boyshorts, hi-cut—
“See something you like?” he says when he stops stretching and I figure out that I’ve been staring.
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, what?” I look away from his face and pray to switch personalities with someone with better control over their eyeballs and mouth.
Jett just shakes his head.
I’m trying to prevent myself from saying something else dumb when the door slams open and in barges a guy who looks like he should pose in a calendar with the title “Brawny Beefcakes” or something. He’s one walking muscle and he’s also covered in tats, but his are more of the abstract, sort of black tribal-looking variety. My eyes move up to his face and it isn’t as hard as I thought it would be, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t cut glass on his jaw.
He sees me, his mouth drops open and I swear I hear Jett groan behind me.
“It’s about f**king time, man!” He crosses the room in three strides and pulls Jett into one of those handshake-manly-hug things that’s supposed to show affection, but not TOO much affection. Because they are men, and they hug like men.
“It’s not what you think, and you were supposed to meet me at—” Jett tries to say, but another voice yanks our attention toward the door.
“Javi, I thought you said we were going out.” A girl wearing a dress so short that shouldn’t even qualify as a dress leans in the doorway, and ignores the fact that Jett and I are staring at her.
“Yeah, babe, we are. I just had to grab some condoms.” Now my mouth is the one that’s dropping open.
“Can’t have my boys going rogue on me and knocking someone up, you know what I mean?” he says to me with a wink as he goes into his room.
No, I don’t know what you mean. I look back at Jett and he just shrugs one shoulder.
“That’s Javier.” Like he needs any other introduction. I glance back at the girl by the door. Yikes. Generally, your dress should be longer than your vag**a, but this girl clearly hasn’t taken that advice and is busy trying to pull it down while the dress protests that it will NOT be pulled down. She finally gives up and I quickly avert my gaze. I don’t want to see if her downstairs has a face.
“And what is your name, sweetheart?” Javier finally turns his full attention on me and the girl at the door sighs in irritation that he’s ignoring her.
“Sh-Shannon. I’m Shannon.” Please don’t say anything stupid, please don’t say anything stupid.
“Verrrry nice to meet you, Shannon.” His voice drips with innuendo.
“We didn’t have sex,” I blurt out. “I mean, not that you would think that we had, but we didn’t. I wouldn’t do that here—” I’m stopped by Javier’s hand on my shoulder.
“Whoa there. Simmer down, now.” He pats my shoulder and gives me a wink as I try to swallow my tongue so I won’t talk anymore. I can NOT look at Jett. Or the girl near the door. Javier leans close and whispers in my ear.
“Handle with care, sweetheart.” He hovers for a moment, as if he’s smelling me. I can definitely smell him. He’d pretty much bathed in that douche-y fragrance that half the guys on campus wear. Ugh.
He steps away and licks his top lip like he’s in some sort of erotic film. Dude, seriously?
“Javi?” The girl at the door taps her foot and he finally focuses on her.
“Yeah, babe. I’m coming.” He slips his arm around her and then sticks his tongue in her ear as his hand grabs her ass. She giggles and they stumble out the door.
“Soooo, yeah. That’s Javier. I’m sorry.” I finally raise my eyes and meet his face.
“He’s . . . interesting?” It sounds like a question. And that isn’t the best word for Javier. I don’t really have any words for him, and Jett doesn’t either.
“What did he say to you?” He walks back to the couch, and I can tell he really wants to know but he’s playing it off like he doesn’t.
“‘Handle with care.’ What does that mean?” I sit next to him on the couch again, being careful to avoid the coffee table this time.
Jett puts his head in his hands and rubs his eyes. He looks tired when he raises his head again.
“I have no idea,” he says, but the way he says it means that he has more than an idea. He knows exactly what Javier means, but I can’t begin to figure it out.
“Look, I should go. I can, um, call a cab.”
“No, no, you don’t have to do that. I can drive you if you want to go.” He almost sounds sad.
“I mean, I don’t want to go. I just felt kind of weird, intruding on your life.” I start to stand, but he grabs my arm to stop me.