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She dives past me onto the couch, laughing as she reaches for the remote. I’m starting to wonder what I did before thatsound.
“According to the DVR gods, there are”—she clicks away on the remote—“two more of these.” As I work the tie loose and then off, my gaze runs over her, from the white-blond hair that’s still up in its ponytail to her bright-purple toenails. She stares at me, a teasing smile on her face and her bare feet tucked up underher.
Once in a few generations, there’s a mutation. A gene that changes due to outside influences or things we can’t explain. After generations of sameness, something changes. The result is someone who’s a little different from everyone who camebefore.
I return to the couch, shoving my sleeves up to the elbows, and sit closer to her than I did last time. Because fuckit.
Right now, it’s about how close I feel to her. Every inch of me is humming. I feel as though she’s inside me, and I don’t know how that’s possible when we’re barelytouching.
She shifts against me, leaning her shoulder into my chest and I huff out a breath against herhair.
“I’d stay up all night withyou.”
19
Rena
I’m dreaming of chips.
But they don’t taste likechips.
And also, they’re turning meon.
When I open my eyes, it’s dark, but the smell has me sighing. I take a deep breath, my fingers digging into the pillow to bring it closer, and heat shoots between mylegs.
Wes.
Because my arms are clutching the sexiest pillow ever, and I don’t know if it’s down or synthetic, and I officially don’tcare.
I wake up more fully. I’m in a bed, alone. There’s a slit of light where the door’s cracked. The bright-green numbers on the alarm clock say it’s after three o’clock in themorning.
I shift out of bed, careful not to trip over anything. My eyes adjust as I open the door and walk down the short hallway into the living room, where the TV and the hallway light are stillon.
Back to the Future. We watched all three movies. Then Wes insisted I crash because even though I only had one gummy hours ago, he didn’t want me drivinghome.
What I don’t remember was agreeing to take his bed, but I must have because he’s asleep on thecouch.
His hair’s darkened in the low lighting, with glints of copper from the TV screen. His lashes are long, his firm mouth justparted.
Mouth breather. I laughsilently.
He’s not wearing the school clothes anymore. Between the second and third movie, he’d finally changed into pajama pants and a T-shirt, and I feel like a criminal looking athim.
The shirt clings to his biceps, his chest. The waistband rides low, and I wish it would slide down so I could sneak a glance at… something.Anything.
God, he’sbeautiful.
Wes looks relaxed and at peace for the first time in… maybeever.
He makes a sound, and I jump, pressing a hand to my heart. But his slow, deep breathing resumes a momentlater.
I can’t remember having as good a time with a friend or boyfriend or anything in between as I had with Wes tonight. His calm presence, his seriousness. The way we talked about everything. How he told me about his relationship with his dad, the way he thought he’d let himdown.
Parents—including mine, probably—must dream of having kids like Wes. He’s smart and hardworking and fuckingeverything.
I hate that he’s hurting and I wish I could take it away, but I know that’s part of himtoo.
His lashes blink. “Rena?”
