“You look nervous,” he said as he took my heavy book bag away from me.
“I sort of am,” I said honestly.
“Don’t be nervous. We’re just two friends hanging out and watching some TV. It’s a first for me, but it seems like I’m doing a lot of firsts when it comes to you.”
“It’s a first for me, too.”
“You’ve never hung out with friends and watched TV?” His brow creased in with confusion.
“I have, but I’ve never spent the night with a guy before.”
“Well, as long as you don’t pull out those damn gym shorts and soccer socks, I think you’ll leave unscathed.”
I laughed.
“Seriously, my soccer socks?”
“Hell yeah. I’ve had some dirty fantasies about you and those socks.” He winked as he tossed me a pillow, then fell on the bed facing the TV.
“Okay, so what are we watching?” he asked casually, like he wasn’t just flirting two seconds before.
We sat up watching sitcoms and talking about our favorite movies until my eyes refused to stay open. At one point, I was almost positive Zeke kissed me on the cheek and told me goodnight, but I was so out of it I couldn’t be sure.
I woke up twice throughout the night. Once with Zeke’s arms wrapped tightly around me as he spooned me from behind and the second time with my arm and leg thrown across him while he was on his back. It was some of the best sleep I’d gotten in years.
The next morning my ringing cell phone woke me. I reached over to answer it, but I didn’t make it in time. It was my eighteenth birthday and I knew it was probably my sister calling to sing me happy birthday. She’d warned me the night before that she would. She wasn’t too happy about me “spending the night with Megan” the night before my birthday.
The sun cut through a slit in the curtains and right into my eyes. Outside the window I could hear a couple arguing about money. How I’d managed to sleep through that I had no idea. It didn’t seem to bother Zeke since he was snoozing away next to me. I turned toward him and took in his sleeping face.
Happy eighteenth birthday to me!
Dear God, the man looked gorgeous even while he slept. Sleeping on his stomach, his hand was across mine. I pressed my head deeper into my pillow and let my eyes roam over his naked back. When had he taken off his shirt and why the hell did I miss it?
His finger jerked and brought my attention back to our hands. I ran my finger over the nautical star tattoo on side of his wrist. He slept peacefully as I traced the lines of the dark ink. Occasionally, the tip of my finger would bump into a bubbled vein.
He released a sleepy noise and turned his hand over. While the top of his hand was soft, his palms were rough. I laid my palm against his and compared his hand to mine. His was so much larger and tanner. His hands were those of a boy who’d lived a rough life, but when he touched me it was if they were soft as cotton.
Being able to touch him this way was such a big deal for me. I’d always thought that touch was something I’d just have to live without, but with him it was a beautiful thing.
“What’s that smile about?” he asked, his voice thick and raspy from sleep.
I hadn’t even realized I was smiling.
“It’s nothing,”
“It didn’t look like nothing.” He rolled over “What time is it?”
Shit!
I snatched up my phone and looked at the time. It was after eight a.m., which meant we were both late for school.
I turned to jump out of bed, but he grabbed me from behind and forced me back down.
“No. Sleep,” he said into his pillow.
“We’re going to miss school.”
I very rarely missed school and when I did, it was because of something important like fractured ribs.
“Let’s skip. We’re seniors. After all the years we’ve been in school, we deserve a free day.”
I settled back into the bed beside him.
“You’re a bad influence,” I said as I stared up at the ceiling,
“I know and you love it.”
His breath evened out after that and I knew he’d gone back to sleep. I slipped out of the bed and got a shower. When I was done, I peeked out of the bathroom to see if he