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He didn’t move away. No, Will stood there, not moving an inch. At least he wasn’t leaning down anymore, but that was because he didn’t need to. I had gotten up, I had closed the distance between us, and by the look of it, I was the only one who felt immensely awkward here.
Will was busy studying me. “You smell like strawberries,” he said, his lips hardly moving.
“That,” I said, sounding one hundred percent like the awkward girl you couldn’t help but cringe at in teen movies, “would be my body wash. You can use it, if you want.” Oh, hell. I was just rambling now, wasn’t I? “Then you could smell like strawberries.” I might’ve, uh, poked his chest as I said that last part.
Shit. This was not good.
Will made a noncommittal sound. “Eh, I don’t think the scent would work as good on me as it does on you.”
I had no idea what to say, and it was at that moment that I heard the shower stop running, so I ducked, moving under Will’s arm, finally stepping away from him, able to breathe in deeply without fear of my boobs touching him.
Was it hot in here, or was it just me? All that intimate closeness made me forget about the fact I’d slammed my splinted thumb against the underside of the desk. At least it was good for something.
I sat on my bed, pretending to not notice the way Will stared at me. I was a conflicted bitch. Half of me liked having those pretty hazel eyes on me, while the other half wanted to crawl under my sheets and pretend he wasn’t in the room. I almost told Will to go see if Declan needed any help, but we’d both been told off by Declan when we tried to help him before. He might have a long cut in his arm—which was now full of stitches—but he’d be damned if he needed our help to change or anything.
“How come I never see you on your phone?” Will asked, and as I sat there dumbly, wondering why the hell Will had to catch everything, Declan walked out of the shower, wearing nothing but athletic shorts.
Water droplets galore. It was impossible not to stare at Declan as he made his way out, using his good arm to rub a towel along his hair. “If you broke it Saturday night,” Declan started, all but leaping to agree with his brother, “I can pay to have it fixed, or replaced—” He thought everything that happened that night was his fault, but in reality, it was the other way around.
It was my fault, and I had no idea whether or not I should tell him. If I told him about Travis, about the diary I’d found, he’d be better prepared if Travis made another move. On the other hand, what if he didn’t believe me? It was that nagging fear, that tiny suspicion of failure that kept my mouth closed.
Hmm. Maybe I’d bring it up to Will, see what he thought about it. Travis, Sawyer, and Declan were all close growing up; Will was always there, even if he was a few years older, a fourth-year senior at Stanton.
I stood there, silent, my eyes flicking between the brothers. Seeing them so close, one of them shirtless and wet, was not good for my sanity. I really wanted to grab my skateboard and hightail it out of here, but then I might run into Travis, and until the sidewalks were full of other students, I wouldn’t be safe roaming them by myself.
“What’s wrong?” Will asked, his dark brows creasing. “Is it your hand?”
“What’s wrong with her hand?” Declan questioned, to which his brother shot him a look. “I mean, aside from the splint and what happened. Did she hurt it again?” So eager, so thoughtful. He tossed his towel onto his desk, moving toward me, unknowing that his shirtless form was the problem here.
His bare chest, the way he doted on me, how Will acted around me—I mean, what the hell was a girl to do?
Declan’s injury-free hand reached for me, lightly touching my elbow, far enough above the splint that he gripped me harder than I expected him to. Any touch would be too much. “Did you hurt it, Ash?” he repeated, his voice a bare whisper.
“Did you ever get the prescription filled?” Will shook his head. “Of course not. You don’t have a car. I’ll take you.”
I pulled myself away from them both. “I’m fine,” I stated, hoping they believed me. I didn’t need either of them doting on me like I…like I was their girlfriend or something. “I am getting hungry, though.”
“I’ll pick something up,” Will offered. “What are you guys hungry for?” He grinned. “As long as I bring back chicken nuggets, I have a feeling you’ll be happy.”
Why’d I have to go and share something about myself to him?
Declan moved his eyes from me to his brother. “Surprise us,” he said, and Will nodded and left, tossing a quick look at me before he was out the door. Then it was just me and Declan. Declan and I. You know, like old times.
Except not really. I didn’t remember this much sexual tension, or maybe I was just oblivious to it before.
My eyes were on Declan’s flat abdomen. Not as muscled as his brother, but flat and smooth where it counted. And that V-shape leading to his…
Nope. Not going to go there.
“You plan on putting on a shirt, or is this going to be a shirtless dorm room? I warn you, I only have one nice bra.” Shit. Telling Declan about the state of affairs of my bra drawer was not something I should be doing.
Declan’s cheeks grew pink, and before I knew it, he turned away from me, giving me his back as he went to his dresser. He said nothing as he pulled out a shirt, being careful as he put it on. “Better?” he asked, turning to me. No more blushing. Good. Maybe we could finally move past this.
“Yep,” I said. Apparently me threatening to walk around in a bra was the only threat Declan needed to put clothes on. Seeing me shirtless, while it wouldn’t be the first time, was out of the question.
I moved to sit on my bed. “Your brother’s nice,” I said, trying to change subjects.
“He is.”
