Still holding his Speedo. Why hasn’t he taken this thing yet?
“I’m sorry about her. She—”
“Obviously knows I’m into you.” His smile widens, and he finally takes the Speedo.
Holy crap is he honest. “Um—” That’s all I’ve got.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. If you want to catch up with your friend, I’ll understand. But you’re welcome to stay and hang out with me.”
My head says go, but my heart won’t listen. “Are you sure you don’t have something else to do? Swim practice maybe?” I motion to the Speedo in his hands.
“No. No practice today. We had a double session yesterday instead. I’m all yours.”
I know he doesn’t mean it like that, but my heart races anyway. “So, tell me more about Timberland.” Tell me more about Timberland? What the hell is wrong with me?
He laughs and tosses his dirty clothes into the bottom of his closet, right on top of the shoes. “You can sit down, you know. Make yourself comfortable.”
Sit. I only had two options: his desk chair or the bed. I chicken out and slump into the chair.
He wrinkles his brow. “Isn’t that seat wet from my swimsuit?”
As soon as he says it, it registers why there’s a sudden coolness seeping into my jean shorts. “Totally wet.” I stand up and look at the dark mark on my butt. “Well, that’s not embarrassing at all.” I roll my eyes, unable to believe what a complete idiot I’m being. I’m alone with Andy in his room. This is what I wanted, so why am I acting so freakin’ lame?
He laughs. “I’d loan you a blow dryer, but I don’t have one.”
My underwear is sticking to me in the worst way. “Maybe I should go. I brought a blow dryer with me.”
His face falls. “Oh. I understand. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
Are we still talking about my wet shorts? “On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t go just yet. I mean, your shirt was wet earlier, thanks to me, and you didn’t change.” I shrug, trying to look casual and act the way I think a college co-ed would. “Besides, it would be a little embarrassing walking out of here like this. Right now you’re the only one who knows about my stupidity.” Of course, he’s the last one I want to see it.
He laughs again. “Afraid you’ll get a fun nickname like Wet Pants before you even officially start the semester?”
“You could say that.” That and I have no desire to leave his room.
“I might have a pair of sweats for you to change into until your shorts dry.”
Wear his clothes? That would require me getting undressed. Here. In his room.
“You could change in the bathroom. It’s just down the hall to the right.” He heads for his closet and rummages through it. When he turns around, he’s holding a pair of navy blue sweats. “They’ll be huge on you, but they should work.” He holds them out to me. No way will they fit. I place them up against my body, and the legs continue past my feet. We both laugh. “Okay, maybe not.” He steps closer, closing the distance between us. “Does this mean you won’t stay?”
Decision time. Am I willing to risk getting hurt by the first guy I met on campus?
He reaches for my face and gently brushes a few strands of hair behind my shoulder. I shiver at his touch. His eyes fall to my lips, which part slightly as if inviting him in. God, just kiss me already!
He steps back, and my heart sinks into my stomach. What happened? Why did he stop? Did I do something? All I know is I’m devastated he didn’t kiss me. I search his eyes for some clue, but he turns away before I find one.
“So, you said you’re undecided on a major?”
What the hell is that? We’re making small talk again? “Um, I might be leaning towards art.” The words come out as awkwardly as I feel.
He sits on the bed. “Do you paint, sculpt…? Sorry, I don’t know what else there is. I have no artistic ability whatsoever.”
“I prefer to work with charcoals. You know, doing sketches, but I paint as well.” Thank God the words are just tumbling out of my mouth because I can’t make any sense of where this conversation came from or where it’s going.
“Why are you undecided then?” He pats the bed next to him.
I still can’t believe we’re talking. I should be in his arms, kissing him.