Page 46 of Make Me Mean It

I exhale and turn away from the door, only for the reality of where I’m standing to settle in properly now that Marcus’s room is very clearly no longer an option.

I’m in Theo’s bedroom, drunk enough that getting home isn’t happening, with his bed sitting a few feet away and rapidly becoming the only option that doesn’t involve listening to my brother fuck someone before climbing into the aftermath.

“Uh-”

I turn, gesturing vaguely towards the bed, then around the room when that doesn’t seem sufficient. “What- where-”

I close my mouth, frustration burning in my chest. I know what I’m trying to ask. Where am I sleeping? What the hell are we doing? Why am I even standing here?

Apparently getting any of that from my head to my mouth is beyond me tonight.

Theo turns away and pulls open one of his drawers, rummaging through it before taking out a bundle of fabric and pressing it into my chest.

My hands close around it automatically, soft, worn cotton gathering between my fingers as I look down. A t-shirt. I rub my thumb over the faded edge of the print, and familiarity prickles before I can place why.

Then I do.

I’ve seen Theo wear this.

My fingers still against the fabric as I look back up at him.

Theo is standing directly in front of me again, my chin tilting up, looking to the bed and back to him.

“Stop thinking so hard, Reid,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

I swallow, whatever answer I should have getting harder to find the longer I hold his stare, so I lower my eyes instead and immediately regret the decision.

Theo is still shirtless, bare skin and dark ink filling the space where I’d apparently expected to find something less distracting.

I should look somewhere else. I know I should, but the alcohol has apparently destroyed whatever part of my brain usually stops me from openly staring at people.

At him.

“Yeah,” I manage, my voice rough. “Thanks.”

Theo doesn’t answer, the quiet between us stretching until I lift my head and find him staring at me.

He tips my face back towards his, and the light pressure of his finger registers everywhere, a pulse running down my spine while my eyes lock helplessly onto his.

“Look at me like that again,” he says quietly, stripped of the lazy amusement he usually hides behind, “and I’ll break that promise in a heartbeat.”

Heat flashes through me at the touch, fierce and unmistakable.

I jerk backwards before my body can betray me any further, gripping the t-shirt until the fabric bunches between my hands.

“Don’t touch me.”

It barely makes it past my lips.

I meant them to cut, but my voice has gone quiet instead, thinned out beneath the heavy beat of my pulse.

Theo’s jaw clenches, his eyes falling to the part of my lips, before raising slowly back to mine, leaning closer.

His breath brushes the already hot skin of my cheek, close enough now that another inch would change this into something I’m rapidly running out of ways to pretend I don’t want.

“Get in the bed.”

Nothing playful remains in his voice.