More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I take a big breath of air through my nose as I pass— he just smells so good.
Carter slides into the driver’s seat and I remind myself that there is no reason to be nervous. “I am so nervous,” I admit, and then silently curse myself. Sometimes, I have no control over my own tongue.
Carter’s chest expands under the tight shirt, giving me something interesting to stare at. He’s silent as he backs us out of the drive, but glances over at me and smiles, carefully. “Me too,” he says, and immediately I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest.
I’m once again struck by the sensation of my body reaching for his. He’s never chatty, so he really must be nervous. It’s endearing and a little bit of an ego boost, knowing that I’m the reason he’s nervous. It makes me want to do something bold like hold his hand, or hug him again.
The radio is on, very low and barely discernible; it’s something acoustic and jazzy, making me wonder if Carter put on music that he thought might be romantic. Looking away from him and out the window, I smile at the thought. Scary Carter Morgan III is a closet romantic—who knew?
Before I can push open my door and climb out, he stops me. “Wait for a second,” he says, before flinging his own door open and making me fear for the vehicle parked next to us. I stay seated and watch as he jogs around the front of the car and pops open my door.
He closes the door gently, clicks the lock on his key fob, and places a soft hand on my mid back. It’s a careful, restrained bit of contact that makes my chest ache— he’s trying to be respectful of boundaries.
There is something hugely entertaining about hearing Carter say ‘chill vibes’ while scowling as though he means to scare all those vibes away. He glances at me, nudging my arm with his elbow and rolling his eyes dramatically. “Shut up,” he says, making me laugh harder. “Chill vibes,” I mimic, making my voice sound low and threatening, like a growl.
Carter is standing very close to me, arm pressed firmly against mine. It’s likely pretty obvious that we’re out on a date.
So, definitely obvious that we’re on a date, then. I’m glad Carter doesn’t seem to mind. There is nothing worse than someone being ashamed of being romantically linked to you. He keeps his hand on my back this time, as we navigate through the other diners and tables. As I knew he would, Carter pulls out my chair once we reach the table and the hostess looks delighted.
It would take nothing at all to reach out and touch his arm with my hand.
“I saw that they won their last game after a shootout,” I tell him, smiling when his eyes widen in surprise. “I set a Google Alert on my phone so that I could get updates on South Carolina’s season.” I sit there, proud of myself and basking in the shocked expression on Carter’s face.
I’ve begun paying a little more attention to the sport now that he’s in my life, wanting to be a part of something that he so obviously loves. The surprise morphs into pleasure, and he treats me to a small smile.
I try to picture what it might be like to kiss him, but I can’t quite wrap my mind around it. I bet he’d be good at it, though.
Carter is so easy to talk to—attending closely to the conversation, his eyes intent on mine as I speak. He’s an excellent listener, and asks questions or lets me know when I say something he doesn’t quite understand. He doesn’t seem overly concerned that I’m more book smart than he is, almost indifferent to something that sometimes ends up being a big roadblock with others. Nobody likes feeling like they’re less intelligent than someone else.
Carter has his hands tucked casually into his pockets; I glance at him, clearing my throat and drawing his attention to me. “How do you feel about holding hands?” I ask, and enjoy his sputter of surprise. “What?” “Well, I was thinking it might be nice to hold your hand but I didn’t want to assume you’d be okay with that,” I tell him, watching the way his mouth is slowly curving upward into a smile. “There are a lot of people around.”
He huffs a laugh, pulling a hand from his pocket and holding it out to me. When I slide my palms against his, he maneuvers his fingers until they are threaded between mine. He’s got rough palms, calloused from hours spent in a gym, and his skin feels ridiculously warm in the cooler evening air. I smile.
“I don’t mind holding hands,” he says, and his fingers give mine a small squeeze. His larger hand almost completely engulfs mine. “You don’t have to ask.”
“We can do this again, sometime, right?” Unconsciously, my hand tightens on Carter’s and he glances over at me. “Go…out, I mean. On a date. And hold hands.” He looks like he wants to smile so bad. “Yeah. I’d be bummed if we didn’t.” “I do not want you to be bummed,” I joke, trying to tease the smile out for real.
A couple times I’ve glanced over and caught him looking happier than I’ve ever seen him. Warmth pools in my stomach; I wish we were still touching.
“What?” I say, distracted by thoughts of how to maneuver his hand back into mine.
“You’ll have fun, I promise. Lots of hand holding,” he says, lips twitching and eyes bright. “And, uhm…thanks. For going out tonight and giving me a chance.”
It seems incredible that he can look at me and find something he likes.
I laugh and he immediately smiles back. It’s so easy for Zeke to be happy. I wonder if, by proximity alone, some of that irreverent joy will rub off onto me.
Zeke stares at my hands for a full minute, at least, before he reaches one hand out and grabs ahold of me. He shoots me what he must think is a menacing look, but only looks adorable on his face.
“Don’t let go,” he reminds me, as though I might start prying his fingers off of mine and abandon him.
“Ugh,” he rolls his eyes and repeats his earlier sentiment: “Show-off.” “That’s a lot of attitude for someone who is fully reliant on me to remain upright,” I note, and he smiles.
The whole point of doing this was because I knew we’d be touching the entire time. He lets out a long sigh and smiles up at me. Those eyes are going to be the death of me.
I can’t help but smile, my insides practically glowing with the praise.
by this time tomorrow half of the school will know that we just had a very romantic morning together.” He adopts a breathy tone. “Me the hopeless nerd, and you the big strong hockey player who has to skate backward in front of me and hold my hands. I mean…the romance of it all.”
“I’m serious. There is going to be a hit out on me tomorrow. I’ve taken one of SCU’s most eligible bachelors off of the market.” I know he’s only joking, but I like the words he’s saying. I wonder if I need to tell him that I am off the market, for as long as he and I are dating, with or without sex. I’m a one person at a time kind of guy.
“Okay, well, regardless,” I shift, uncomfortable with the direction this conversation has taken, “I don’t want to date anyone else, but you. Just to make that clear.”
“No, me either,” Zeke says, and I glance over at him. “You and me, huh?” “Yeah,” I agree, “you and me.”
Vas is my only friend, and he’s a good one.
Vas nudges me. “Perhaps that is your Zeke,”
I stare down at my phone and let out a surprised laugh. Beside me, Vas chuckles softly
I read Zeke’s message again and shake my head in disbelief. I’m so glad he answered my ad for a roommate.
What time do you think you’ll be back? I’ll set an alarm to wake up to make sure you got home okay.
I stare down at my phone in silence, an uncomfortable burn in my chest. Nobody has ever done something like that for me, and here he is offering it up like it’s not the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I war with the desire to say something flippant or something sincere. I like him so much, it’s starting to freak me out. We haven’t even kissed yet, for fuck’s sake.
Doing my best to ignore the way that makes me feel, I lock my phone and tuck it back into my pocket.
I wish he was here right now.
Carter is striding toward us; he’s wearing grey sweatpants, a fitted black, long-sleeved shirt, and a scowl. My stomach performs a series of gymnastics when his eyes meet mine. It seems incredible that I was just wishing for him and here he is.
“Hi.” A startled laugh slips out and I smile at him. My stomach, which had been clenched in a knot during that entire exchange is now clenched for a different reason. It’s been less than a week since we’ve seen each other, but it feels like much longer. It feels like I need to touch him to make sure he’s real.
“Hi. I missed you,” I tell him, because I’ve never been able to control the words that come out of my mouth.
He holds a hand out to me and I immediately slide my fingers through his.
I feel strange, being this close to him after not seeing him for a week; my skin tingles with the desire to touch him.
Saying sweet things always makes him uncomfortable.
I told her we were dating and she felt bad for not making you something.
I’d convinced him not to do presents for Christmas, since we’ve only been dating a couple of months. It was like trying to convince the sun not to shine.
“Is this a children’s book?” I ask, glancing at him. “About hockey?” Carter lets out a whoop of laughter, bending forward from the force of it. I can’t help but laugh with him and for a long time the room is filled with nothing else. Eventually, wiping his eyes, he takes a couple fortifying breaths and looks at me. His eyes are shining with uncontained joy and there is an actual fucking smile on his face. A wide, beautiful smile. I’ve never seen so many of his teeth before.
