No. “Yes.” Trying to move my thoughts out of dangerous territory, I say, “My mom used to brush my hair to help me go to sleep.”
“Did your parents know about Tristan?”
I stiffen at his question, old feelings churning inside me. “Not in the way you mean, but they found out later on.”
“Did they punish your sister?”
“She was grounded, but beyond that what could they do?”
“And now?”
I blow out a breath, hating that my heart still stings with pain after all this time. “And now, in their eyes it was a silly teenage mistake, and we all need to be grown ups and move on.”
Teddy lets out a sound behind me that can only be described as an angry growl. “You should never have to speak or even look at her ever again.”
“I used to think after I graduated, I would just go back home, but I don’t want that anymore.” I haven’t said this out loud to anyone, barely even let myself think about it. “Maybe I’ll go to a city. I’ve always wanted to live in Brooklyn. I don’t care if it’s in a place the size of a closet.”
“I think you should.” He resumes rubbing my neck. “You can do anything you want.”
“You think so?”
“You’re a go-getter. Anyone can see that. If you set your mind to something, I know you’ll go above and beyond to make it happen.”
For some reason Teddy’s faith in me means everything. Maybe because he’s lived such a privileged life and I haven’t, that if he sees something in me, then surely it must be there.
“You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“Never.” The one-word rings with truth. “There.” He sets the brush down on the bed, the fingers of his other hand leaving my neck.
“Thank you.” I slide off the mattress, gathering my things, and pretend not to notice when he tries to discreetly adjust himself.
Teddy gets off the bed, stretching his arms above his head. His muscles move beneath his skin, tantalizing me.
Stop staring at the man’s abs, Vanessa. You’re drooling!
Thoroughly stretched, he yanks the covers back on his side of the bed and climbs beneath them.
“Are you coming to bed?” he asks, after I’ve been standing for too long staring at him.
“Um … yeah, right.” I shake myself free of my stupor and join him in bed, trying not to think about the fact that I woke up this morning clinging to him like he was the bed itself and that there was drool on his shoulder.
When I’m lying beneath the covers, he turns the lights off and rolls over to face me.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down my spine in the dark. “When someone says they’re thinking about nothing, it actually means they’re thinking about everything.”
“Or maybe they’re thinking about too much and it feels like nothing because they can’t pick one thought.”
“Possibly.” His teeth are bright white in the darkness when he smiles. “Are you thinking about me?” I don’t reply and this makes his smile grow. “You are.”
“I didn’t answer.”
“Silence is an answer.” I jolt when his fingers glide over my hip. “Is this okay?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Your skin is so soft.”
“I can’t think straight when you touch me.” I curse myself for letting the truth slip out.
“I can’t think straight when you’re in the same room as me.”
My breath is too loud in the otherwise quiet room. I feel like my walls crumble all too easily around Teddy. He’s so easy to like, to care about, that I forget logic.
I fake a yawn. “I’m really sleepy,” I lie.
The way he tenses I know he’s aware of my evasion. “Goodnight, Van.”
“Night, Teddy.”
I wake before Teddy, slipping from the bed carefully so he won’t notice my absence. Slipping on a bra—no way am I free-boobing it around all his friends with these massive things—I meet everyone in the kitchen to prepare a birthday cake as well as breakfast.
The cake is simple—a boxed funfetti one—but we make two layers, trying to at least give the appearance of something nicer. Sure, we could’ve bought a cake, but I was the one that insisted we make it instead. I know it’ll mean more to Teddy that way.
With the cake in the oven, we start on preparing a breakfast of pancakes, bacon, hashbrowns, eggs, and toast. For some reason I expected the guys not to help, but all of them join in and seem to be having fun. Cree and Murray are the ones I’ve hung around the least in the past and I find that Cree is quiet with an intensity about him, but a kind personality, and Murray is practically an equal counterpart to Teddy—a wild, loose cannon but you can’t help sensing there’s more beneath the surface.
We’ve just finished icing the cake and sloppily spelling out Happy Birthday Not-Theodore on the cake in bright red gel-like icing when Rory hushes us, and we hear the footsteps.
I stand in front of the island, unable to rid myself of the goofy smile on my face.
Teddy yawns, stretching his arms above his head. He hasn’t turned and noticed us yet, but when he does his green eyes swim with emotion that he tries to keep at bay, and he can’t stop the smile that breaks over his face.
“Happy birthday!” We all chorus and then break out in a sloppy, very out of tune rendition of the song.
“You guys.” Two words, but you can feel the emotion. He crosses the space, coming to me first. Placing his hands on my hips, he presses his forehead to mine. “You did this for me?”
I try to nod but it’s hard with his big head against mine. “We all did. We—”
“We love you, dude,” Jude finishes for me, coming in for a group hug. Soon, everyone’s piling on, and Teddy and I are buried beneath the mass of bodies.
When they disperse and it’s Teddy and I alone in our bubble once more, his eyes seem to say to me, This is what family is supposed to be.
27
Teddy
“I told you, we don’t have to do anything for my actual birthday.”
Vanessa pouts at me, bottom lip jutted out in mock hurt. “Just because we already celebrated, doesn’t mean we’re not going to do it again.” She towels off outside the pool, having come a long way with her swimming. She can tread the water easily now and float, which makes me feel loads better with our trip to Greece around the corner. I’m exhausted after a full day of classes where the professors are laying it on thick leading up to break, baseball practice, and then coming to the gym for Van’s swim lesson.
“Can we celebrate by hanging out in my room and watching Beverly Hills, 90210?”
She grins at me, tossing the towel around her shoulders. Her hair hangs in a wet curtain that she keeps shoving out of her way. “I knew you were obsessed.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave her off.
“Is that really all you want to do?”
Surprisingly, it is. I don’t want to find an on or off campus party, which is crazy because I love parties; I don’t want a fancy dinner at some restaurant, I just want to hang with my girl.