“I don’t want to get your bed wet from my shorts.” I’m not sure why I’m arguing with his invitation, but my mind is a jumbled mess right now.
“It’s my fault your shorts are wet so it’s only fitting.”
No, my shorts are wet because I’m a fucking coward. Maybe that’s why he didn’t kiss me—because I chose his wet chair over his bed. He probably thinks I’m an inexperienced little high school senior. He pats the bed again, and this time I don’t hesitate. I sit down, angling my body so I’m facing him. I just want to touch him, but I’m not sure if I should make the first move so I bring my knee up so it’s leaning against his. “My parents don’t want me to major in art. They want me to pick something ‘I can actually use one day’.” I make air quotes to show those are their words, not mine.
Andy shakes his head. “Screw what’s useful. I’d rather have a job I love, even if it doesn’t pay as well.”
“Then why are you majoring in business?” I’m calling him out, trying to figure out if he’s for real or not.
“I want to own a restaurant one day. One that serves nothing but omelets, every kind imaginable.”
“Omelets? I would’ve expected you to say a frozen yogurt shop.” I lift my eyes, meeting his gaze, challenging him. I’m right here. Just kiss me!
“I’m not really in it for the yogurt. It’s all about the sprinkles.” He smiles, and his hand finds my knee, tracing circles on it. “Now, if I could find a way to use sprinkles in an omelet, I’d be all set.” His touch sends goose bumps down my legs, which he acknowledges with a smile. I slide closer to him on the bed. “Why aren’t you majoring in cooking if that’s what you really want to do?” What I really want to know is why he’s touching my knee when it’s clear he wants to be touching more than just my leg.
He shrugs. “Probably for the same reason you aren’t majoring in art. My parents wanted me to have a degree that was more versatile. I’m minoring in cooking, though. Timberland doesn’t offer cooking as anything more than that anyway.”
“What made you come here then?” Our shoulders are pressed together now, and his hand finds the hem of my shorts.
“Full ride.”
“I thought you said you didn’t get any special treatment because your dad is the dean?” It’s like we’re having two conversations, one with words and one with our bodies, which are dying to get to know each other better.
“I came here on a swimming scholarship. My dad became dean after I enrolled. He took the position after my first semester.”
“Makes sense.” What doesn’t make sense is why he hasn’t kissed me yet.
“Are you testing me?” His tone isn’t accusatory, just matter-of-fact.
Am I? Maybe I do want to make sure the guy who’s driving me so crazy is really a good guy. “Sorry. I’m not the most trusting person, I guess. The guys at my school are…Well, I don’t spend much time worrying if what they say is true.”
“Because you don’t buy any of it?”
I nod, realizing how awful that sounds. He’s going to think I’m a stuck up bitch. “I’m not—”
He holds his hands up, and I immediately crave his touch again. “You’re careful. You should be. No need to defend it. You wouldn’t believe how many naïve freshman I see come through here.” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand why girls just throw themselves at guys or why they trust any guy who says he likes her.”
Or opens a door for her? What is he trying to tell me?
“Most guys aren’t boyfriend material. It’s not what they’re after.”
Not what he’s after? Am I supposed to read into this or not? I’m sure he saw where this was going a moment ago.
“I like that you don’t trust people right off the bat. People should have to earn your trust.”
God, I’m going crazy. What is he trying to say?
He cocks his head. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. I’m just trying to figure you out. Are you warning me about what most guys are like or is this really about you?”
He sighs. “Shit. I’m such an idiot.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “What do you mean?”
“I shouldn’t be telling you this in my room. You must think I’m some pervy R.A. who hits on incoming freshman.”
I had dismissed that thought before he started all this confusing