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Um. Whoa.
“Come on,” he says, waving me out.
I force myself to step outside, willing my ankles to stop wobbling as I stand up beneath his jacket. He nudges the door closed and we rush across the grass together toward the porch. As we step up, he lowers the jacket and shakes the excess water off now that we’re safely under the roof.
I open the front pocket on my backpack in search of my keys. “Thanks,” I say, barely able to speak as a shiver travels my spine.
“Don’t mention it.”
I look up into his face again. He’s tall, nearly a whole foot taller than me. His dark hair looks even darker thanks to the rain. His face and shirt are damp, too. He didn’t even try to keep himself dry.
What would Jenna do?
“Uh…” I swallow hard. “Would you like to come in?”
He pauses. “Come in?”
“You’re soaked,” I say. “You can come in, dry off. Maybe… have some coffee? Or tea? We’ve got… both.”
The words spill out of my mouth, taking me by surprise. I guess my mother’s southern hospitality rubbed off on me after all.
His gaze wanders my face. Not for too long, though. Just long enough for me to feel it. “Sure,” he answers. “I’ve got nowhere else to be tonight.”
Well, that can’t be true. There’s no way he’d rather be here hanging out with me than be… literally anywhere else on the planet.
I unlock the door and step inside, holding it open wide for him to follow me. He walks in and scans the living room, his face as expressionless as it was in class. I can’t get a read on him at all.
Those dimples, though.
“Let me grab you a towel,” I say as I peel off my jacket and hang it on the coat rack in the living room.
“All right,” he says.
I shuffle down the hall on the left, doing my very best to walk like a normal freaking person, but I guess that’s off the menu tonight. I drop my backpack by my bedroom door and continue forward to the bathroom. With the light on, I grab a clean towel from the cabinet and pause in front of the mirror. You know, just to make sure I’m still me and did not mutate into some strange creature capable of inviting a hot stranger into her house.
I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly before reentering the hallway.
My bedroom door is open.
And the light is on.
My bedroom door is open, and the light is on!
I widen my stride to the doorway as my stomach flips upside down.
He’s in my bedroom.
He stares at the sketches hanging on my wall above my desk. “Wow,” he says, noticing me standing behind him.
“What?” I ask, tense as fuck.
“Are these yours?”
“Uh…” I step forward, quickly scanning the floor. Luckily, I did laundry yesterday. The hamper is empty. Nothing too cringe-worthy in sight. “Yeah,” I answer, glancing at the dozen drawings of faces. Some random. Some from memory. Others of family or friends or celebrities. “These are mine.”
“You’re really good.”
I blush. I hold out the towel. “Here. Nice and clean.”
