Page 31 of The Score

Chapter 11

Pen

I'm on my back, hands on my stomach, staring at the ceiling. I pull up the covers all the way to my neck. A long time ago, I fell prey to the standard teen experience of gluing small, fluorescent star-shaped stickers up there, but they barely glow anymore. Old furniture surrounds me, though we got rid of my desk to make room for a slightly bigger bed. Now only the two dressers stand to one side and the window to the other.

Sleep evades me. I'm trying really hard not to get on my phone. My brain needs a chance to process everything.

Imagine it, Pen. Picture what you want our wedding to be like.

My chest tightens. Butterflies take over my belly. It's a good thing I know all of this is adrenaline getting pumped into my system, or I might start thinking things I shouldn't. Like marrying my best friend may be more than a pact and an agreement.

Well, no. It's more likely that I'm reacting to how busy the next few weeks will be, if we want to pull this off at all.

It all stops when my door handle opens slowly. I expect my mom to make an appearance, and my eyes go to where her head should appear. Only they end up traveling upwards, when Leon shows up instead.

I raise my eyebrows but say nothing. If I get a little breathless, that's just because I'm surprised.

He closes the door and approaches the bed slowly. He wears an old white shirt with his college team logo on the chest, and old training shorts. Both have faded and, if I touched them, I know they would feel infinitely soft. The Henley cut at his neck lets me see the start of his tattoos and a small tuft of hair that disappears into the fabric. In my mind, I follow ink and light fur to his wide chest and torso, or down his heavily tattooed arms. His belly is comforting, and his thighs thick, and—

I shouldn't be looking at him this way.

"Do you need something?" I whisper.

I stay under the covers and gaze up at him.

"I take it this isn't fulfilling one of your bucket list items," he grumbles.

"What?"

"Having a boy sneaking into your room."

I gulp. It's time I recover.

"Who says that's never happened?" I say.

He looks shocked and I laugh. It helps.

"Relax, Papa Bear. It never happened."

"I didn't ask."

"And you're way too much of a man to fulfill the dream of aboysneaking in."

Standing tall next to my bed, hands on his hips and a stern frown directed my way, he really looks all grown. As a teen, I did imagine it— from anyone, not Leon in particular of course. Once I swore off love, I didn't consider it at all.

"Was it your fantasy, Bear? Is that why you're here?"

It makes me tingly to think.

"I did sneak into someone's bedroom once because yes, I wanted to be one of those teenagers."

I groan. It's my fault for teasing him like that.

A wrinkle appears between his eyebrows. "But never. Ever. Did I do it as a man. It's not why I'm doing this now either."

"Right." I clear my throat. "So?"

"We need to sleep together."