The Pass (Smart Jocks #5) - Rebecca Jenshak Page 0,12

far, but by unspoken agreement, we stretch out our time together.

“What’s your speech about?”

She hooks her arm through mine. “We have to give a five-minute speech that teaches the class something. Something that we’re interested in and bonus points for uniqueness.”

“Oh man, I can’t wait to hear this.”

“Mine is about organizing clothes and accessories in dorm-sized closets.”

“I should have known it was related to your clothes somehow.” I pull at the soft cotton material of her dress. “I like this one.”

“Thanks.” She glances over at me. “I thought it matched the color of your eyes.”

“Yeah?” I think that’s a compliment. I know how much she likes her dresses though, and she has a whole bunch of them, so maybe each of them reminds her of something and her noting a dress matches my eye color is just a normal thing for her. This girl has me questioning all sorts of things that I never imagined I’d give a second thought.

I go with her inside Freddy dorm and up to her floor.

“Thanks for walking me home.”

“Thanks for coming to see me. Maybe tomorrow we can go out, like actually leave the house and do something?” My hands are a little sweaty and I shove them in my pockets.

“Can’t. We have a team dinner thing and Saturday I promised Emily we’d go to the football party. You could come with us if you want.”

I like her friends, but I’d far prefer to spend the night with just her. Maybe a movie or dinner, or the bar. “Okay, yeah, whatever you want.”

Her wide smile makes me forget to be disappointed. “I’ll text you when I know what everyone’s doing.”

Tipping back on my heels, that disappointment creeps back in knowing that we’re not going to be able to hang out for a couple of days. And I really hate this weird place we’re in. Most of the time I don’t notice it because I’m too busy enjoying her company, but when we say goodbye there’s always this beat of awkwardness. When can I see her again? Should I kiss her? Have we hung out enough times that she trusts me?

Sydney smiles tentatively, hand on the doorknob. A war wages in my head.

Kiss her.

Don’t freak her out.

Fucking kiss her already.

You’ll know when the time is right.

It feels pretty fucking right.

While I’m still debating, Sydney makes the decision for me. She steps forward, kisses me on the cheek so quickly I almost miss it, and then throws open her door and goes inside. “’Night, Tanner.”

How did I get friend zoned by a girl that by her own words had been dying to meet me for an entire year? I think it might have been this moment. I should have taken her out to a party or to dinner. I should have kissed her. Literally anything would have been better than what I did, which was nothing.

6

Sydney

Present day - two years later

“Tanner?” I call as I walk through the front door. My voice echoes in the big, quiet space. I move through to the back of the house to see if he’s outside and then backtrack to go upstairs. Everyone else has already gone home for summer break, and if it weren’t for Tanner’s car out front and the text he sent me five minutes ago, I’d think he was gone too.

As I ascend the stairs, I finally hear him. Above the sound of the shower, he sings. The words and tempo don’t match any song I know, but he keeps right on belting it out. The bathroom door is cracked open and steam seeps out.

“It sounds like you’re drowning a cat in there,” I say, standing along the wall so I don’t accidentally get an eyeful. If there’s anything I’ve learned being friends with Tanner over the last two years, it’s that he’s unabashedly proud of his body and not afraid who sees it. Modesty? What’s that?

The water stops, and I hear him push the shower curtain open. “There’s a pussy joke in there somewhere.”

Rolling my eyes, but smiling all the same, I step back when his footsteps approach. “Are you decent?”

“Always.”

“Is your dick covered?”

He chuckles and moves past me. He’s dripping water all over the hallway, but he does have a towel wrapped around his waist.

I follow him into his room and sit on his bed. He steps into his closet, tosses the towel out onto the floor, and when he reappears, he has on a pair of shorts.

He drops beside me on the mattress.

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