Power Plays & Straight A's - Eden Finley Page 0,64

the library. Except now I’m curious. I gave him space, an easy out, but now he’s coming to me.

Is this what usually happens? Is he mad? Why does he want to see me? Oh, is this … is this a booty call?

Please let it be a booty call.

I walk so quickly back to my dorm that I’m almost jogging, and I promise my poor lungs this is their cardio quota for the month.

My nerves are thrumming by the time I get back to my room and change into clean sweats and a T-shirt. My hair is a spikey mess, but I attempt to tame it anyway, combing my fingers through it again and again until it almost looks normal.

I don’t know why I bother, but even acknowledging that can’t make me stop.

I’m expecting him to call when he gets here, so the loud knock on my door makes me jump. How does he keep doing that?

Maybe this wasn’t a great idea. Maybe I need to climb under my covers and stay there forever instead. It’s the much safer option. It’s the smarter option.

I open the door anyway.

Foster lights up when he sees me, a wide smile stretching across the most attractive face I’ve ever seen. I can’t stop myself from smiling back.

“I gave you notice.” He eyes the partially closed door.

I step aside to let him in.

As soon as the door is closed, Foster grabs my arm and tugs me in for a hug. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against my ear.

He … what? I pull back a little so I can see his face. “Are you here to have sex?”

Foster chokes on a laugh. “Do you want me to be?”

“I’m … confused.”

Foster releases me as I step away and sit on the side of my bed.

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I …” He glances around the room like he’s expecting clarification. “I wanted to see you. We’ve got an away game next weekend and these past two weeks have been—Zach, what’s going on?”

I curl my bare toes against the floorboards, not sure I can look at him. “I don’t know.” I really, really don’t. “We had our date, and it was great, but it was that one weekend, and now it’s over, so I assumed we were done.”

“Done?” He takes a step back. “Were you going to tell me that?”

“I thought you knew.”

“I’m not a fucking mind reader.” Is he … angry?

He turns, making for the door, and I’m more confused than ever.

“Can I ask a question?” I blurt.

“What?” He sounds pissed off but resigned.

“What are you …” I try to pinpoint the emotion. “Are you upset?”

“Holy shit,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “You tell me, Mr. Psychologist. What is a guy supposed to feel when the person he likes tells him they’re done?”

I’ve never scrambled off my bed so fast. “You what?”

“What?”

“No, you what. What did you say? What does that mean?”

“That I like you?” Foster sounds confused.

“You like me?”

“Have I somehow not been obvious?”

I frown, because has he? “We … never really established what this was, and then you were busy, and I thought maybe your texts were meant to blow me off without hurting my feelings.”

He laughs, and I’m relieved when his hard expression melts away. “You mean the ones I sent so you knew I was thinking of you even though my schedule is crazy right now?”

“Oh.” I shift my weight. “It’s possible I didn’t interpret them that way.”

“And after the hockey game when you blew me off? What was that about?”

“I didn’t want you to see me as an obligation or … or clingy.”

“Obligation? I wanted to hang out with you. Only you. Then when the team was finally done, I went to find you, but you were gone.”

“I waited. Apparently, not long enough.”

“Come here.” Foster pulls me into his arms again, and this time I’m able to relax. “Next time you start assuming what I want, promise you’ll check in first.”

“Next time?” I tilt my head back so I can see him properly. “So you’re saying this could be a … regular thing?”

“Very regular.”

I smile as I step back, arms still around his waist. “I promise. No more assumptions.”

“Well, you can make some. Like if you assume I’m up for sex, the answer will always be yes.”

“Always?”

“Same goes for kissing which we’ve already worked out. Blowjobs and handjobs are on the table.” He smothers me in his arms again, almost knocking me off-balance. “Cuddling. Hanging out.” His lips brush