The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,53
leans his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. “You think too much.”
“It’s my best and worst trait.” I touch his face. His achingly beautiful face. I run my fingers along his jaw, committing to memory the agony in his gaze as I touch him.
He’s affected by me. He can say and do whatever he wants, but he cares.
He just doesn’t know what to do with those feelings yet.
And that’s the only reason I’m letting things go this far between us in the first place. Deep down, I know Jackson has feelings for me. He’s just afraid. Of me. Of us.
Of everything.
“Are you going to let me come inside?” he asks.
“I shouldn’t,” I tell him truthfully.
“Come on, El. Let me.” He grips my hips again, his touch and tone persuasive. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”
See how he knows we’re going to do something that I might want to stop? Besides, it’s Jackson.
I won’t want him to stop. I didn’t want him to stop just now. I had to get my feelings out first. But did he actually hear me? I don’t know.
“Okay,” I whisper like an idiot.
He lifts his head from mine, his smile triumphant while carefully setting me on my feet. We don’t say a word as I finish unlocking the door and slowly open it, letting him in first. It’s dark inside, not even a lamp left on, which is fine. I have my flashlight on my phone and I can make my way around the place without running into furniture.
I’m still not that familiar with my new home, but I’m getting there.
It’s a four bedroom, and I have three other roommates. All girls I don’t know, but so far, we get along okay. I’m not necessarily close to any of them yet, and the arrangement we have is nice, since we don’t share a bedroom, so at least we each have some privacy.
Tonight, in this very moment, I’m very, very glad Jackson and I will have privacy. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be happening.
I shut and lock the door before I lead him to my bedroom upstairs. The townhouse is tri-level, with two bedrooms on the top floor, the common living space on the second, and two other bedrooms on the bottom. Jackson follows me up the stairs closely, nearly bumping into me, and I wonder if he’s just eager, or only trying to remind me that he’s there. Maybe a combo of both?
Or maybe I’m just overthinking things as usual.
Cracking open my door, I’m about to quietly sneak inside, but Jackson pushes at the door instead, making us both barrel in. He shuts the door for me and turns the lock, an ominous sound in the otherwise quiet room.
I swallow hard when he hits the light switch and the overhead light comes on. The hungry expression on his face as he studies me, and I feel decidedly lacking.
“Uh, I need to change first.” I glance down at my dirty clothes.
“You won’t need to change,” he says with a wicked smile.
“Can I at least shower?”
“Did you dip yourself into a vat of barbecue sauce?” he asks. “Or maybe ranch? Spill a gallon of beer on your shirt?
“What?” I frown. “No. Well, maybe a half gallon of beer.”
He laughs, and it is the best sound. “Then you don’t need to take a shower.”
“I might smell,” I tell him as he makes his way toward me.
“I’m willing to take my chances.”
“You should turn off the light.”
His gaze darkens. “I want to see everything.”
Oh. Shit.
I mean, I want to see everything too. It’s Jackson, after all. But I’m nervous. Self-conscious.
“Please?” I whisper.
He stops in front of me, huffs out a breath and goes back to the door, where the light switch is. He hits it again, shutting the lights off before he walks past me and turns on the lamp that sits on my bedside table.
“Compromise?” he asks, lifting his brows.
I give a jerky nod, fighting the nerves that suddenly swarm me.
After I drop my keys and my phone on the bedside table, he wraps me up in his arms and just holds me for a moment. The two of us standing beside the bed, not saying anything. I cling to him because I can, absorbing his heat and his scent and his strength. Everything about him, I want.
I’m nervous though. So nervous. And worried. Having him in my bedroom is sending a message. Things are going to another level between us, and I hope I don’t regret it.